Goodbye, Hello
by NazgulQueen13
Summary: A modern fairy tale set in New York, a prince wants to be defiant and thinks he's in love with a lowly assistant. But what if Cinderella isn't the right girl for Prince Charming? What if love is where it should have been all along? A backward Cinderella.
1. Introduction

Author's Note: Hello, fair people! I started nitpicking my way through this story now that it's almost done, and here is the first chapter refreshed and revitalized. Well, not really, but I spruced it up a bit. Hope you like it.

For new readers, my name is Emma the NazgulQueen. Nazgul, should you be Lord of the Rings-impaired, are a race of soulless, evil beings. But don't worry, I only get really evil if you don't review. :)

So read, enjoy, and review!

Emma the NazgulQueen

Disclaimer: I should mention that Goodbye, Hello, is indeed a Beatles song. **_And Telera, the country in the story, is utterly made-up. It's in _****_Europe_****_, they speak English, and it's small. :)_**

Goodbye, Hello

_Introduction_

Once upon a time, in a faraway land…well, unless you live in the tri-state area, because then it really isn't all that faraway, but anyways, ahem, what was I saying? Oh yes…in the city of New York, there lived a fair maiden whose gentle manners and courteous charm won over all whom she met.

"Hey! Get the hell out of the way, that was my cab!"

Well, maybe not. But she _was_ fair. Her name was Susanna, and she was of a fierce, independent nature, which suited the lifestyle she led.

"5th and 59th, and speed it up." Susanna was on her way to work at the posh Brittania department store where she was head of all things fashion.

"I should've taken my bike," she grumbled as she looked with dismay at the heavy traffic jam ahead of her. She kicked herself mentally for not taking her motorcycle.

Twenty minutes later, she was still stuck in the same spot on 45th street.

"I give up," she said. She fumbled in her briefcase and retrieved her wallet.

"Here," she said angrily, slamming a fifty into the dazed cabbie's hand. She then got out of the cab and slammed the door shut. Cursing herself for wearing stilettos, she walked as quickly as she could, snaking herself around the slow tourists and hobos. As she stood waiting to cross the street to the store, her phone rang.

"Susanna Bennet here, how may I help you?" she said.

"Miss Bennet, it's me." It was Susanna's secretary.

"I'm sorry, Darcy, it's the damn traffic," she said as she finally got to cross the street. "I'm on my way in now."

"Good, because the people from Valentino are here and they need to get to London by noon."

Susanna hung up and hurried into the store. The glittering chandeliers and ceiling-high mirrors glinted in the morning sun as she ran to the elevators.

"Come on, come on," she muttered. The doors finally opened and she hurried in, pushing the button for level 10. It rose up, and the doors opened again to reveal a stylish lobby.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet," the woman at the desk said.

"G'Mornin'," Susanna hurriedly replied as she practically ran down the hall to the left. At the end of the hall stood another desk in front of two great doors.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet," another woman at a desk said.

Susanna didn't reply as she threw open the doors and hurried inside.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said, quite out of breath.

Two very chic men stood in her office, looking hassled and impatient. Susanna walked around to her desk, threw her briefcase on it, and sat down.

"Please, sit," she said, motioning to the two chairs situated in front of the desk. Darcy, a thin, nervous young woman hovered next to Susanna.

"Darcy, be a dear and get me some coffee?" Susanna said to her.

"Right away Miss Bennet," Darcy said, and hurried away.

"I am so sorry gentlemen, I was stuck in traffic," Susanna said, turning to the two men.

"It is fine," the obviously elder one said in a thick Italian accent. "But we will need to hurry this up."

"Of course. Now, I was in Milan for your fall line, and may I say, it is fantastic," she said.

"Thank you."

"Well, I can make this short and sweet. We would like to buy the whole line," she said, opening a side drawer and retrieving some papers.

The men smiled widely. "Thank you, Miss Bennet."

She smiled as well. She handed them the papers. "If you be so kind as to take these to my assistant Miss Clevell, she will finalize it."

They all stood, and each shook hands with her. Thanking her again, they left the office.

Susanna sighed and sat back down in her big leather chair.

"I hurried all the way for that?" she mumbled. She swung around and put her feet on the sill of the enormous bay window that looked out onto 5th Avenue. She crossed her legs and smoothed out the knee-length black leather skirt she had on. She wore a crisp, white blouse rolled to her elbows with a small diamond solitaire necklace. Her dark brown hair was slightly wavy today and fell to her shoulders. She leaned her head back on the chair and looked around at her impeccably clean office. It was the largest office on the floor; her big mahogany desk stood by the window, with two plush chairs in front. File cabinets stood behind a glass divider, surrounded by hibiscus plants. A flat screen television could come down from the ceiling, and a handsome sofa stood against the cream-colored walls.

"Here's your coffee, Miss Bennet, I am so sorry it took so long." The door opened and Darcy hurried in, a mug of coffee in her hand. Susanna swung around to face the desk, glad for the aroma of coffee.

She blew on it to cool and said, "Any messages, Darcy?"

"Oh! Yes…" the girl fumbled for some Post-Its in her pocket. "The Pink Label rep from Oscar de la Renta called and invited you to the show in Paris…" she put the paper down for Susanna to see. "The Versace Jeans Couture shipment can't come in until late August… and Vogue wants you to call them about a column in the next issue."

"Is that it?" Susanna asked, sipping her coffee.

"Yes…oh wait, no. Your mother called." Darcy bit her lip, knowing this was bad news.

Susanna rolled her eyes, but allowed Darcy to continue.

"She wants you to come to Telera as soon as possible, the eldest prince is getting married," Darcy said, unsuccessfully trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.

Susanna sighed. "Fine, I'll call her. Anything else?"

"You have a meeting at noon with Mr. Simmons, and Miss Zyan wants you to come to the club at 3:00."

"Thank you, Darcy."

The young woman practically curtsied and then left the room. Susanna sighed heavily, but picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello, the Bennet household."

"Hi, is Giselle around?" Susanna said to the dull, haughty butler.

"May I ask who is calling?"

"Susanna."

"Right away, Miss Susanna."

A few moments pause and then Susanna's mother's high-pitched voice came through the receiver.

"Susanna, my darling!" she said in a much too warm voice.

"Good morning, Mother." Susanna replied dully.

"Morning! Good gracious, it's 2:00 in the afternoon!"

Susanna rested her chin in her free hand. "Yes, Mother. I was told you called."

"Yes, I did. You simply won't believe it, but Roberto is finally getting married!"

"How wonderful," Susanna said flatly, not especially caring.

"Isn't it?" Mrs. Bennet gushed, not picking up her daughter's sarcasm.

"Who is she?"

"Oh, she's a wonderful girl. You might remember her…that Connor girl."

"Alberta?" Susanna asked, remembering the awkward, gangly girl she had shared a governess with.

"Yes! Isn't that just splendid? Of course, the count and the countess are quite thrilled. You'll come, won't you?" her mother, the duchess, said, her voice inviting bordering on threatening.

Susanna sighed. She often tried as hard as she could from going home, but she knew it would be useless this time.

"When is it?" she finally relented.

"It's in two weeks, August the 20th."

"Alright, I'll come. But I don't expect I can stay long," Susanna said quickly.

"Oh darling, I cannot wait to see you! Call one of your fashion friends and get a very fine dress. Have them ship it here separately so it won't get ruined."

"Yes, Mother."

"Well, I will see you then!" her mother said, her voice dripping in false excitement.

"Goodbye, Mother."

"Goodbye, dear."

Susanna hung up the phone with a click. No sooner had she set it down but it rang again.

"Susanna Bennet," she said automatically.

"Suzy!" came a bright voice.

Susanna smiled. "Good morning, Vivian," she said to her best friend.

"You're coming at 3, right?"

"Yes, but I'll have to change first."

"Oh, whatever. Who were you talking to? I tried to call you a few moments ago."

"My mother," Susanna said resentfully.

"Oh, dear." Vivian knew that meant trouble.

"I have to go home in a few weeks for a wedding," Susanna explained.

"The prince's wedding?" Vivian shrieked.

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately? Suzy, that will be the prime fashion event of the season!" Vivian said enviously.

"Yes, but I will actually have to converse with them," Susanna tried to explain.

"Oh, Suzy, it's only one night," Vivian reasurred her.

"I suppose so," Susanna replied, not really believing her.

"Well, I have to run. See you at 3:00!"

"See you."

Susanna hung up the phone again and pushed a small button.

"Darcy, can you call around and find me an extremely fancy evening gown?" she said into the intercom.

"What for, Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked politely.

"I have to go to a wedding." _Lucky me,_ she thought.

"Right away, Miss Bennet."

"Thank you, Darcy."

Susanna swung again to face the window, but then thought of something and swung back around.

"Oh, and Darcy?"

"Yes, Miss Bennet?"

"Could you get me a blueberry muffin?"

"Straight away, Miss Bennet," Darcy said with amusement.

"Thank you, Darcy."

She sighed and was going to swing back around, but suddenly the television came sliding down from her ceiling. No matter how long she worked here, that always managed to make her jump.

"Good morning, Susanna." Her boss' face appeared on the screen.

"Good morning, Mr. Simmons."

"I know we have a staff meeting at noon, but I had to ask you if you were going to Prince Roberto's wedding."

"Yes, sir, I leave in two weeks."

"I thought you hated going back home." He was a bald man with a thin black mustache, and right now he looked surprised.

"I do," Susanna grumbled.

"I still don't understand why you left. To think…giving up being a duchess for New York," he said in a disbelieving voice.

"It's a lot less glamorous than it sounds, Mr. Simmons," she groused, beginning to tap her pen on the desk.

"Well… Have you found a dress?" he changed the subject.

"My assistant is working on it."

"Good. I want a full report and pictures," he ordered.

"Alright, sir."

"And Susanna?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Try to have fun," he said with a smile.

Susanna rolled her eyes. "I will, sir."

He winked at her, and then the screen went blank and slid itself back up into the ceiling.

Susanna sighed. This was looking to be her longest August ever.

* * *

"Roberto, I'm happy for you, I really am."

"But what?"

"Nothing!"

The two princes of Telera were playing golf on their bazillion-acre estate. I exaggerate, but you get the idea.

"You're keeping something from me, Ryan," Roberto said. He was a handsome man, in his mid-30's, with slick, jet-black hair and a thin mustache. His dark, olive skin complimented his deep brown eyes, and he looked very fit in his tidy golfing clothes.

His younger brother, on the other hand, had fair skin, sparkling green eyes, and sandy blonde, slightly curly hair. In his late 20s, he was quite well-built, and wore faded jeans and a crisp white polo shirt. He took a swing and sent the ball clear into a nearby pond.

"You are pathetic," Roberto said. Ryan just smiled.

"That's why I have you to teach me!" he said jovially, placing another ball on the tee.

"At this rate, there won't be any more golf balls in all of Telera."

"That's not saying much," Ryan said with mischievous smile.

"Hey! We may be an island, but Telera is quite big compared to other European countries," Roberto protested.

"Oh, sure. We're about as big as America's smallest state," Ryan joked.

"Hey!" Roberto exclaimed again. "I will have you know we are as big as Pennsylvania, one of America's… somewhat large states."

Ryan laughed. "Take it easy," he said, setting himself up for another swing.

"Well, at least I have some national pride," Roberto said. "At least I'm getting married."

"Oh yeah, when your 36. You could've gotten married way earlier, my brother."

Roberto snorted. "No, I couldn't have, because I didn't meet Alberta until I was 32."

"We've known Alberta since we were ten!" Ryan said incredulously.

"Yes, but she went away and didn't come back until I was 32," Roberto explained with an air of superiority.

"Same difference," Ryan said, before taking another big swing. This one fared hardly any better; it hit a tree before landing in a sand pit.

"You're hopeless," Roberto commented again. Ryan glared at him.

"Well, you sure as hell aren't helping," he grumbled.

"No, I'm having far too much fun watching you fail."

Ryan just grunted, and changed the subject. "So, who's coming to the wedding?"

"Everyone," Roberto said simply.

"Everyone?"

"Yes, everyone."

Ryan sighed, leaning on his golf club.

"And you know who is included in that everyone?" Roberto said slyly.

"Who?"

"Susanna Bennet."

Ryan grunted again. "That annoyance? I thought she was in New York."

"She is. But you know what her mother is like."

Ryan rolled his eyes, thinking of the outspoken Susanna, whom he had never gotten along with and probably never would. She was too… quarrelsome. And far too cynical for his taste.

"Besides," Roberto continued, "maybe she's better."

Ryan laughed sarcastically. "Yeah right. Last time she was here she called me a haughty, conceited, egotistical snob and poured a glass of wine on my new suit, and then proceeded to ride her God-awful motorcycle through my garden."

"Well, you never know."

"Please, she'll never change," Ryan argued.

"She is beautiful, though."

"Sure, but she's also rude and callous and despicable and…" Ryan ranted.

"Alright, alright," Roberto cut him off, laughing. "You've made your point."

"Let's go back inside, maybe we'll be allowed to help with something."

"I doubt it."

Laughing, they walked together back into their castle.

* * *

"Darcy?"

"Yes, Miss Bennet?"

"Have you found a dress yet?"

"Yes, I set up three fittings for you on Friday with Versace, Vera Wang, and Chanel. I expect some more calls soon."

"Thanks. I'm leaving for the day, so can you make sure those Gucci files get sent?"

"Yes, Miss Bennet."

It was 2:00, and Susanna left the office and through the now-crowded store. Stepping outside and putting on her sunglasses, she decided it was a beautiful day and that she would walk home.

She reached her apartment building on Park Avenue and greeted the doorman, who ushered her inside. She got in the elevator with an elderly woman, Mrs. DuValliand, a rich socialite who carried her small poodle with her wherever she went.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. DuValliand," Susanna said politely.

"Hello, Susanna, dear. Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Gorgeous."

They fell silent and waited patiently as the elevator made its way up. At the 32nd floor, it stopped and Susanna bid Mrs. DuValliand a good day, and stepped out. The lobby to her 3-story penthouse had marble floors and a small chandelier. She fumbled for her key and went inside.

"Finally," she said, leaning against the door and throwing off her stilettos. The round room she was now in also had marble floors, a fountain in the center, large hibiscus plants (her favorite flower) and a glittering chandelier. It branched off into several hallways, and Susanna went left and hurried up the spiral stairs that greeted her. She went past the second floor and stopped at the third, where her bedroom appeared before her and she began to undress.

The enormous room held a large, king-sized canopy bed. The walls were a soft lavender, and a large window held a lush window seat. Bookcases, a television, and a large, full-length mirror filled the walls. The plush purple carpet felt good on Susanna's sore feet. She went to a door that stood in the corner. She opened it walked into her massive closet. She walked to where her many pants hung, and picked out a pair of khaki chinos. Hopping to put them on, she next picked out a black boatneck tank. Shoving that on over her head, she grabbed some black pumps with pointed toes. Not wanting to put the shoes on yet, she left the closet and put them on her bed.

She went to her bathroom. The vast bathroom was cream marble, with a glass shower and a large, gold bathtub. She stood in front of the large mirror that was lined with little light bulbs. She took off her work makeup and put on some black mascara, brown eyeshadow, and some deep lipstick called "Blackberry Rum". Her tanned skin didn't need any foundation, so she shut her makeup drawers and worked on her hair. She finally decided on a simple half-up and clasped her thick hair with a large barrette. Deciding she was good to go, she grabbed her shoes and went back downstairs.

She put on her shoes as she got into the elevator, and pressed the button for the garage. She stepped out again into the garage underneath the building, and headed for her bright blue Yamaha motorcycle. Putting her purse in the compartment and securing her helmet, she left the garage and headed out.

The drive to Long Island was fairly easy, and Susanna arrived just on time. Giving her bike to the valet parking, she took off her helmet and ran a hand through her hair. She stood at the drive to a large, handsome mansion, with exquisite gardens and a spacious lawn. Smelling the ocean breeze, she walked around to the back and was escorted to the beachside patio, where her friend Vivian Zyan, a wealthy hotel heiress, sat sipping a martini.

"There you are!" Vivian said as Susanna sat down. Vivian was a thin, petite woman with curly, fiery red hair. Her face was speckled with freckles, and she wore a straw sun hat, linen capris, and a white tank top.

Susanna ordered a Corona and leaned back in the chair, basking her face in the sun.

"So…" Vivian encouraged.

"So what?" Susanna asked, although she knew what Vivian wanted to hear.

"Well, tell me about the wedding!" Vivian urged.

"There's nothing to tell. He's getting married to a countess whose name is Alberta," Susanna explained, with extra emphasis on the name of Alberta.

"Alberta? That poor girl."

"I know. She was in France for years studying…anthropology or something like that," Susanna said, not caring whether she remembered or not.

"Studying? Why? She won't have to do anything as a princess," Vivian said, surprised/

"Nope." The waiter set down her Corona.

"Have you decided what you're going to wear?"

"No. Darcy set some appointments up," Susanna said, her eyes still closed.

"Do you do anything yourself?" Vivian asked with a smile.

"Of course! She only does things that I don't have time for," Susanna said defensively.

"Oh, and you are _so_ busy," Vivian said sarcastically.

"I am!" Susanna cried.

"Oh please, Suzy. You leave work at 2 every day, you go to Italy and France for fashion shows all the time, and now you're taking a week off to go home."

"I am _not_ going for a whole week. Two days, tops," Susanna said resolutely.

"Two days? That's it?"

"That's about all I can stand of my mother."

"She's not so bad," Vivian said, not even believing herself.

"Not so bad? Every time I go she guilt's me into thinking coming here was a bad idea. She scorns me for acquiring an American accent-"

"-Even though you still sound European," Vivian interrupted.

"Not as much as when I first came here, though. Then she tells me my father would be so ashamed if he could see me, riding a motorcycle and pouring wine on the prince."

"You poured wine on the prince?" Vivian squealed.

"The younger one. Roberto I can deal with, but Ryan is the rudest, most inconsiderate jerk I've ever known," Susanna said angrily.

"But I bet he's cute."

"Vivian!" Susanna exclaimed.

"What?"

"I'm trying to make a point!"

"Sorry," Vivian said, but she still had an amused look on her face.

Susanna sighed and looked out at the ocean. The waves were very calming and she leaned back again.

"Oh, but it must be at least a little fun," Vivian said dreamily. "Princes, kings, countesses, dukes, …"

"Boring, insipid, superficial…" Susanna interrupted. "Trust me, it's not as wonderful as it sounds."

Vivian sighed. "You're just stubborn. I'm sure some of them are lovely people."

Susanna snorted. "Good luck trying to find one."

Vivian sighed again, but didn't comment. They sat in silence, listening to the ocean and relaxing in the sun.


	2. Telera

Chapter 2

Susanna groaned. It was one thing that she was even going to Telera, but to have her mother specially arrange a private jet to _take_ her to Telera was too much. She put her head in her hands. She was a day late, _and_ she hadn't gotten a dress. She had fallen ill with a stomach virus the day that she was supposed to go for all those appointments, and her mother was simply going to kill her. So she sat, slumped, sipping a soda brought to her by her very own butler, and typed away at her laptop. She was writing her bimonthly column for Vogue magazine.

Her phone suddenly rang, and she jumped, cursing herself for putting it on vibration mode.

"Hello?" she said irritably.

"S—nna?"

"Excuse me?" Susanna asked. The phone was crackling.

"It—Al—ta."

"I can't hear you," she said loudly.

"It's Alberta," the voice said, the crackling dying down. "Sorry, the reception is horrible in the forest."

"Alberta?" Susanna asked, surprised.

"Connor. From Telera?"

"Yes, of course. I'm on a plane right now for your wedding."

"Wonderful!"

"Let's hope so," Susanna mumbled.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Actually, Suzy…do you mind if I call you Suzy?"

Susanna sighed, but said, "Not at all."

"I'm calling you about the wedding. Having been in Paris for so long, I don't have very many Teleran friends anymore, and Telera royal law says that the bridal party must consist of all Teleran-born people. So I was wondering, if it's not too much trouble, if you could be one of my bridesmaids?"

Susanna said nothing at first.

"Susanna?"

"Sorry…um, yes, of course."

"You will? Oh, thank you, Susanna, you have no idea what this means to me!" Alberta squealed.

"No problem," Susanna said dully. Well, at least she had an excuse for being without a dress.

"Thank you! When do you get in?"

Susanna looked at her watch. "Probably around four."

"Perfect! Do you think your mother will mind if you come straight to the palace?"

"I don't think so."

"Wonderful! I'll see you then!"

"See you." She clicked her phone shut.

"Well, I'll be," she said softly to herself, and then continued writing about how white was _so_ not the new black.

* * *

Her plane touched down at about quarter to four, and Susanna allowed the airport attendants to carry her luggage. She walked down the steps and across the pavement to where a black limo stood waiting for her. She rolled her eyes, but helped the attendants put her stuff in the trunk and then got in.

She attempted to make herself look presentable in the short distance from the airport to the royal palace. Her faded jeans were torn at the knee, and her hair was wildly curly and frizzy. She quickly put on some foundation and pulled a sweater over her white tank top. In ten minutes, she looked out the window to see the palace rising up over the green hills. It was small in terms of most palaces, but it more than made up for it in its grand gothic architecture. Its many turrets and towers gleamed in the late afternoon sun, and the rolling hills swayed in the summer breeze.

The driver dropped her off at the grand entrance, and then turned and left for her own home. She took off her sunglasses and slid them over her hair. Not knowing quite what to do, she walked to the stained glass doors and pulled one open.

She found herself in the great front hall, with its grand staircase, tapestries, and many sculptures. The cream marble floor echoed under her sandals, and the chandelier glittered above her. Sighing, she put her hands in her pockets and looked around for any sign of life.

She was about to give up and just begin to search when a man ran into the room, wearing exercise clothes and sweating a good deal. She recognized him, regrettably, as the younger prince.

"What are you doing here?" he asked coldly, jogging in place in front of her.

"What do you think?" she retorted. He rolled his eyes.

"If it's the women you're looking for, they're simpering over dresses in the parlor upstairs," he said.

"Good. They'll be far better company than you," she said, walking away from him and up the stairs. She heard him give a huffy grunt before jogging away.

She walked up the stairs and to the right, hearing sounds of "Oh! I love that color!" and "That looks fabulous!" She followed the noise to a golden parlor, where the queen, Alberta and a few other women were sitting, exclaiming over another young girl in a white taffeta dress. They were all dressed very finely, and Susanna laughed silently at what her mother's reaction would be to see her at the moment. She gave a last attempt to smooth out her hair, and then she knocked on the door.

"Susanna!" Alberta, a tall, thin woman with sleek blonde hair and unfortunate buck teeth, stood up from her chair and crossed over to her. She enveloped Susanna in a breath-depriving hug.

"It is so good to see you!" Alberta said, finally letting go and stepping back. She looked Susanna over.

"I am sorry," Susanna said, indicating her clothes. "I did not realize I was going to be coming to the palace right away."

"Perfectly alright," the queen said. She was a stately and refined woman, with pristine white hair and sparkling eyes. She smiled at Susanna's frazzled state.

"Well, I suppose you want to see the dress, right?" Alberta said with a smile, taking Susanna's hand and leading her to where the other women were sitting. A small stage had been set up in the middle of the room, mannequins were placed about the room with various elaborate dresses on, a triple mirror had been put up, and screens were positioned strategically. Susanna murmured greetings to the other women, some of whom she didn't quite recognize.

"Pierre?" Alberta called. Suddenly, a man leapt from behind a screen, pins in his mouth and measuring tape around his neck. He was thin, wore all black, and had slicked back hair and a thin mustache.

"Oui, mademoiselle?" he said with a thick French accent.

"Can you bring out Susanna's bridesmaid dress?" Alberta asked.

"Right away," he said. He disappeared for a moment or two and then came back from the adjoining room carrying a mannequin. He set it down, and Susanna gasped.

The dress was satin, a beautiful lavender color, strapless, with a long trail in the back.

"It's gorgeous," Susanna said. Alberta smiled.

"Well, try it on," the queen said.

Pierre took the dress off the mannequin and laid it delicately in Susanna's outstretched arms. She carefully went behind the screen, feeling just a bit uncomfortable. She put on the dress gently.

"Can someone button me up?" she called.

"Of course!" Alberta came behind the screen and buttoned the pearl buttons on the back of the dress. Susanna came out from the screen and stepped onto the little stage.

The ladies gasped, 'oo'-ing and 'ah'-ing.

"You look magnificent," the queen declared. Alberta had clasped her hands together.

"It's perfect!" she exclaimed.

Susanna smiled and turned around to face the mirror. Even she had to gasp; with the exception of her crazy hair and bloodshot eyes, she did look rather lovely. Pierre rushed forward and began to pull the dress in around her chest.

"Tsk tsk," he muttered through his pins. "Tres petite."

"I beg your pardon," Susanna said curtly. He blushed and moved down to her waist.

"So, Susanna, how is America treating you?" one of the women, whom Susanna was desperately trying to remember the name of, asked.

"Tremendously," she answered.

"I hear you are the highest authority of fashion in New York," Alberta said.

Susanna grunted. "Hardly. Although I am supposed to do a full report on the wedding."

Alberta laughed. "Yes, they are going a bit crazy, aren't they?"

"Do not worry dear," the queen said. "We will have the highest security available."

Alberta smiled and nodded. "I know."

"Parfait," Pierre announced.

"Have you seen your mother yet?" Alberta asked.

"No, I probably should be heading home," Susanna announced, stepping off the stage.

"Of course. Will you have lunch with Lorraine and me tomorrow?" Alberta asked, motioning to the queen.

"Sure," she said, smiling insincerely, heading to the screen.

"Wonderful. I cannot wait to hear all about New York," the queen, or should I say Lorraine, said.

Susanna took the dress off, Pierre's pins poking her sides. She tugged her jeans back on and left the screen.

"Well, it was wonderful to see you all," she said, silently laughing.

"Thank you so much again," Alberta said, hugging her. Susanna gave her a light pat on the back.

"You're more than welcome," she said. Then she waved to the others and left the room.

She went down the steps, laughing lightly. She crossed over to the doors where now a stone-faced butler stood.

"Excuse me," she said, and her voice echoed loudly throughout the room. "May I get a car back to the Bennet mansion?" she said, bringing her voice to a whisper.

He nodded and opened the door for her. She stepped outside and he left to retrieve her a car. She looked out on the Teleran landscape, filled with green hills and orchards. The main city, Bonfemme, was located about twenty miles from the palace.

As she stood there, the prince once again jogged up. She snapped out of her reverie and looked at him disgustedly. His exercise tank top was drenched in sweat, and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead. He stopped next to her and began to stretch.

"Gee, how come you aren't married?" she asked sarcastically.

He glared at her.

"Say, you're a groomsman, right?" she said, thinking of something.

"Yes," he said warily.

"But not the best man."

He gritted his teeth, glowering at her. "No."

"Sheesh, you would think a man would pick his own brother to be his best man," she said with fake sympathy.

"Is there a point to all this?" he asked angrily.

"Well, if you're a groomsman, you may have to walk me down the aisle," she with a mock seriousness.

Before he could answer, the car pulled up and the driver opened Susanna's door.

"See you at the altar, your highness," she said to his furious face.

She closed the door, laughing. Just to make fun of him made the trip to Telera worth it. Of course, it was odd the Roberto had picked their cousin instead of Ryan, but Susanna was sure her mother would have an explanation for all of it,

She opened her window as they got closer to her house. They were driving up the tree-lined avenue that led to the mansion. The grapes were almost ready; she could smell the sweet scent.

In a few moments, she could see the Bennet mansion rising over the trees. The largest mansion in the country, the house was three floors, with cream-colored brick walls, ivy growing up the sides, and a stately staircase leading to the front door. The path circled around a centuries-old fountain before stopping in front of the house.

Susanna got of the car, looking fondly at the house. She definitely had not left for New York because she didn't like this house. Since her mother hadn't come out yet, Susanna walked around to the back of the property.

The large green backyard had a large patio and scads of gardens, and then dropped off into more orchards below. Susanna had always loved the feeling of the late summer sun on her face, and found herself standing still in the middle of the backyard for a few moments.

"Susanna!"

Her mother's voice rang out from the back of the house. Susanna sighed, but turned around to see her mother crossing the lawn over to her.

She was an elegant, dignified woman with silver-gray hair and a posture so straight she appeared taller than she actually was. She was wearing a pink suit and large matching hat. When she reached Susanna, she wrapped her in a large hug and Susanna could smell her constant lilac smell.

"Hello, Mother," Susanna said.

"Susanna, my darling! Why have you taken so long?"

"Alberta asked me to be a bridesmaid, so I stopped at the palace to get my dress fitted."

"How wonderful! But hadn't you already bought a dress?"

Susanna hesitated. "Well, yes, but uh… I can just call Vera and tell her not to ship it tomorrow."

Mrs. Bennet nodded and linked her arm with Susanna's.

"And how was your flight?"

"Fine."

"Isn't that airplane superb?"

"You really didn't need to send it, Mother. I would have been fine on a commercial flight."

"Nonsense! Teleran aristocracy do _not_ take commercial flights."

Susanna sighed, but gave up her argument and stayed silent.

"Dinner will be ready soon, shall we go in?" Duchess Bennet asked.

"Of course," Susanna replied, and with a deep breath, followed her mother into the mansion.


	3. Mud

Chapter 3

"Well, that just sounds fabulous."

Susanna's lunch with the queen and Alberta was actually going quite well, but the conversation about her and New York was dwindling down, which could only mean one thing: wedding talk.

They were on one of the many balconies, facing out onto the large estate. Tents could be seen going up in the grove below.

"I do hope those tents are big enough. There always turns out to be more people than you expect," the queen said, looking worriedly at the tents.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Alberta consoled her.

"Besides, people probably won't even stay in the tents," Susanna chimed in.

They both looked at her oddly.

"Why wouldn't they stay in the tents?" the queen asked.

"The food is in the tents," Alberta said.

"Well, yes, but it will get so stuffy in the tents that people will want to move outside," Susanna said awkwardly. They were looking at her as if she had just sprouted another head.

"See! The tents _are_ too small!" the queen exclaimed.

Susanna sighed, vowing to keep her mouth shut until this was over. Her wide-brimmed hat kept blocking her view, and she felt uncomfortable in the chocolate brown blazer and skirt her mother insisted that she wear. She felt far too dressed up for a lunch, but the queen and Alberta were dressed as if the wedding was today, so she took a sip of her gin and tonic and stopped her silent complaints.

* * *

"Thank you for such a lovely lunch," Susanna was saying to the queen and Alberta. The lunch was finally over, and it was nearing three o'clock in the afternoon. The other two women bid her goodbye and then turned around and went back into the castle, chattering worriedly about tents.

Susanna took her hat off and ran a hand through her hair. She unbuttoned the tight blazer and took it off, feeling much better in just her skirt and tank.

She stood waiting for the car, cooling herself off with the enormous hat, when she noticed something and began to laugh.

The prince, Ryan, was walking up the long driveway, his head hanging, a pack of golf clubs trailing behind him. He was also completely slathered in mud. His nicely pressed khakis were now brown, and a white polo shirt was barely visible underneath a layer of mud.

"Quit laughing," he said angrily when he approached her.

Her laughter died down. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I was golfing," he said, obviously pretending that he wasn't covered in mud from head to toe.

"Oh yes, and people go golfing and come back plastered in mud all the time," she said sarcastically, still chuckling.

"Well, it rained last night," he said.

"So?"

"So the course was muddy."

"What did you do, lie down and roll around in it?"

"No," he said irritably. "I just…"

"What?" she said, egging him on.

"I tripped over a club and fell in the mud, alright?" he said furiously.

She held a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing too hard. He glared at her, not a hint of a smile on his face.

"You think it's funny, do you?" he said. Then, without warning, he lifted up his hand and slapped some mud all over Susanna's face.

Her laughing abruptly stopped, and in its place came anger. She glared at him, but he just threw some more mud at her.

"Not so funny anymore, is it?" he said, finally cracking a mocking smile.

"You asshole!" she exclaimed, wiping the mud out of her eyes. It was his turn to laugh, and laugh he did. He laughed and laughed, while Susanna tried to get the mud out of her hair and off her shirt. The car finally came up, and Susanna got in angrily, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Ryan's laughter died down as Susanna's car drove away. The smile, however, stayed on his face as he walked into his home.

He walked very quietly to his quarters, dumping the muddy golf clubs on the balcony and quickly undressing as he turned on the shower. It took him a good ten minutes to get all the mud out of his hair, and he got out and walked through the steamy bathroom to his closet. His quarters were much smaller than his brother's, but his closet was still easily the size of a studio apartment. He grabbed some jeans and a shirt, and put them on hurriedly when he heard his mother's voice at the door.

"Ryan! Where are you? Angelo has been waiting thirty minutes for you!"

Ryan cursed to himself. He had completely forgotten about his tuxedo fitting, what with the mud and the bitchy Susanna. He took a deep breath and opened his door.

"Where have you been?" his mother demanded.

"I am sorry, Mother. I was attempting to work on my golf skills," he said with a charming smile.

She sighed. "Please, Ryan, there is no time for your jokes. Go to the parlor and get your tuxedo fitted."

"Yes, Mother," he grumbled. He kissed her on the cheek and then walked quickly down the hall to the west wing parlor. Angelo, an elder Italian man, stood tapping his foot, a beautiful tux hanging on the mirror next to him.

"I apologize," Ryan said as he came into the room. "I forgot the time."

Angelo only raised his eyebrows. Ryan gave him an awkward smile as he took the tux. He changed as swiftly as he could behind the triple mirror, not bothering to tie the bowtie.

Angelo made a clicking noise with his tongue, and promptly tied the bow. He then buttoned the jacket and began to pull it in at the sides, thrusting pins into the fabric. Ryan tensed as the man's hand ran up the inseam, cursing his mother for not getting the measurements made first. Angelo, however, looked rather happy, which made Ryan rather sick.

As Angelo began to work on the shoulders, Ryan saw his thoughts flicker uncontrollably to Susanna. He grunted. What a piece of work she was… yet there was something different about her now that she lived in America. She had always been unhappy and dejected when she lived in Telera full-time, from which sprung her unpleasant sarcasm. He rolled his eyes and remembered her comment on him not being the best man. He decided that no, there was nothing different; she was still the same mean-spirited person she had been before she left for New York.

"Done," Angelo announced. Ryan sprang back behind the mirror, and took off the tux hastily. He put it back on the hanger and handed it to Angelo.

"A beautiful groomsman tuxedo," Angelo murmured, looking at the tux fondly. Ryan smiled, but then turned and left the room.

Did everyone have to remind him that he was only a groomsman, and not the best man? Just because his brother was closer to his cousin than to Ryan was not cause to make Ryan miserable. When Roberto had first announced that their cousin was to be the best man, Ryan had been fine with it. But now, everyone everywhere was reminding him how shameful it was that he wasn't the best man.

_Oh, well_, he thought. The wedding was tomorrow and then it would all be over.

* * *

Susanna cursed the prince on the way home. What a jerk! As she neared the house, she saw with dismay that her mother and aunt were standing on the stairs, waiting for her.

Taking a deep breath, she got out of the car, trying to wipe away the mud one last time. She steeled herself for what was coming.

"Susanna, there you are dear!"

She smiled as her aunt Emily came down the steps.

"Good heavens! What happened to you my dearest?" her aunt asked worriedly, eyeing the mud. Her mother came down the steps as well.

"It's a long story," Susanna lied.

"Well, let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" her kindly aunt said. Her mother looked at her with disapproval as her aunt led her up the steps and into the home.

Susanna excused herself and went to her room, ripping off her dirty clothes and jumping into the shower. She muttered angrily to herself as she scrubbed herself clean.

She changed into a light pink skirt and matching top, and quickly dried her hair. She hurried back downstairs and found her mother and aunt on the back patio, discussing the wedding.

"I've heard the dress is simply divine, just to die for," her aunt was saying. "Ah! Here she is!"

"Hello," Susanna said cheerfully, avoiding her mother's stern gaze. Her aunt began to chatter again, going on about the bride's dress, the food, the music… anything and everything. Her mother stayed interested the whole time, but Susanna's mind began to wander… to the prince. What a snob! And yet… Vivian's words ran through her head: _"But I bet he's cute."_ He _was_ awfully handsome… no! She shook her head to get rid of such stupid thoughts. He was egotistical and a jerk. And that was _that_.


	4. A Royal Wedding

Chapter 4

Susanna groaned when she heard her mother's voice at the door. Rolling onto her side, the clock on the nightstand said 6:00. In the morning.

"Are you still sleeping?" her mother said in a shrill voice, bustling into the room.

"Not anymore," Susanna grumbled.

"You must get up!" she cried, opening the curtains. "We have a full day ahead of us. You have your hair done at nine, and then your makeup at one after lunch."

"So why do I have to get up now?" Susanna whined.

"Susanna, you have to eat a full breakfast before you get your nails done at seven!" her mother explained. "Now get up and shower, I'll meet you downstairs."

Susanna moaned, but her mother only 'tsk'ed and left the room. Sighing, she rolled off her king-sized bed, and promptly fell on the floor.

"Ow," she said flatly as she tried to disentangle herself from the canopy fabric. Finally free, she walked dazedly to the bathroom. Rubbing her eyes, she stretched and got into the shower.

"Ah! Cold!" she cried when the nearly freezing water hit her skin. Fumbling to turn the faucet, she hit her head on the showerhead, stumbling back. Well, at least she was awake.

After the shower ordeal, Susanna got into some comfy jeans and a shirt and went downstairs.

"Susanna! What are you wearing?" Her mother was sitting at the dining room table, the sun rising through the window.

"Clothes," Susanna replied, plopping into a chair and grabbing a croissant. She noticed her mother eyeballing her disapprovingly.

"Muffer, I'm goin to change into my dreff anywaf," she mumbled through a mouthful of croissant.

"Don't talk with you mouth full."

Susanna swallowed. "I said, I am going to be changing into my dress anyway, what's the point of getting dressed now?"

Her mother only sighed, and they ate breakfast in silence. The bell rang punctually at seven o'clock, and Susanna grabbed one last cup of coffee before her day of torture was to begin. She heard her mother's muffled voice telling the manicurist to set up in the parlor, and that Susanna would be there straightaway.

"I expect you behave," her mother said sternly as Susanna left.

"Don't I always?" Susanna said coyly, batting her eyelashes.

And so it began.

* * *

"Aren't they done yet?" Susanna moaned an hour and a half later. The manicurist was still only painting her left hand, after an hour of buffing, shining, and smoothing.

"Not much longer," her mother said, who insisted on constantly hovering around. "Make sure that layer is on thick enough," she added to the manicurist.

"Yes," Susanna said, nodding sarcastically to the woman. "God forbid it be too thin."

"Susanna!" her mother cried exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry, but Mother, it's 8:30 and only one hand is finished! How am I supposed to get my hair done at 9:00 if you keep on insisting that the polish isn't on thick enough!" she cried back. Her mother stopped short.

"You know Susanna, you're right. My word, it's half past eight! Hurry up," she said to the manicurist. "We need to be out of the house in fifteen minutes."

The poor manicurist nodded and began to hastily paint Susanna's nails, her brow furrowed in concentration. The nails were done and quickly dried by ten to nine, at which Susanna was hurried out of the house and into the car, heading toward the castle.

"Susanna, please promise me you will dance with someone tonight? It's just terrible when you stand there alone, sulking," her mother said to her.

Susanna didn't answer, but instead slumped against the leather seat, running a hand through her hair. The car pulled up the castle, twinkling in the morning sun.

"Susanna!" Alberta was waiting for them outside, and she hurried toward them with a smile on her face. "Come, come, the other girls are so excited!"

Susanna was whisked into the castle, happily departed from her mother, and pushed into one of the largest bathrooms she had ever seen.

Five other girls sat in barber-style chairs, chattering merrily. Six men wearing pleather pants and shiny tops were fluttering around, plugging in blow dryers and curling irons.

"Susanna, what happened to your head?" Alberta asked worriedly. Frowning, Susanna looked into the mirror and saw a lovely purple bruise starting to form on her forehead. _Damn showerheads_, she thought to herself.

"It's a long story… it won't be a problem, will it?" she asked.

"Of course not," Alberta said. "They'll cover it right up."

Susanna nodded and sat in one of the chairs, examining the bruise in the lighted mirror before her. Suddenly her chair was swung around and she found herself face to face with a very energized man.

"We will make you be-a-u-tiful," he said. She gave a shaky smile and he swung her back around to face the mirror.

She attempted making conversation with the other girls, but at the slightest move or inclination of their heads, the hairdressers would have a fit. So they all kept still and looked ahead.

Nearly two hours later, Susanna was bored out of her mind and in ravaging hunger.

"Perfect!" the men finally exclaimed, leaping back and taking the bibs off the girls. Susanna smiled; her brown locks were twisted and curled, looking both elegant and simple.

"Wonderful!" Alberta cried, her own hair swept up into a fabulous up-do. "There's lunch in the parlor, and then makeup at one o'clock," she reminded them.

"Thank goodness we got out of there alive," one girl whose name was Tess said.

"I know!" another one named Rose cried. "I started to fall asleep, but my hairdresser went crazy when my head moved!"

They all laughed, making their way to the parlor. A fantastic buffet was waiting for them, and Susanna dug right in.

"So, Susanna," one named Laura started, "no husband yet, I suppose?"

Susanna laughed, her mouth full of pasta. She swallowed. "No, definitely not."

"Well, I've been married for three years," Laura continued, as if it was some sort of accomplishment.

"Congratulations," Susanna said, hoping Laura couldn't detect sarcasm.

She couldn't. "Well, thank you. I also notice you've adopted an American accent."

Susanna couldn't think of anything to say, so she nodded, ripping into some bread.

"How terrible," Laura said. "My mother would just die if I had an American accent."

The other girls nodded in agreement. Susanna rolled her eyes inconspicuously. She ate quickly and heartily, while the other girls gossiped, every so often eyeing Susanna reproachfully.

"Makeup, ladies!" a servant called in. Susanna said goodbye to the lovely buffet, and then followed the other girls back into the bathroom.

Makeup didn't take half as long, but Susanna still took longer than any of the other girls because she spent ten minutes interrogating the makeup artist about the cleanliness of the mascara wand. She was a bit germophobic.

"The wedding will commence in one hour," one of the many wedding planners told them as he led them to what he called the 'preparatory room'. "Be dressed and downstairs in forty-five minutes."

The other girls started to excitedly put their dresses on, but Susanna went to the window and peeked out. The large grassy area below was a flurry of movement, people going every which way.

A long night was ahead of her.

* * *

"How do I look?"

Ryan and his cousin Bartholomew were helping Roberto get ready. He was dressed in a freshly pressed, smart-looking classic tuxedo, diamond cufflinks sparkling at the ends of his sleeves.

"Excellent," Bartholomew said. He also was dressed and ready to go. Ryan, however, had his bowtie untied and his shirt still unbuttoned. The wedding was in an hour, and the men had just begun to get ready.

"Now, remember, don't trip," Bartholomew told Roberto, who laughed at the apparent inside joke. Ryan scowled.

"I'm going to go check on Mother," he announced. They nodded and he escaped the room, pausing to breathe the air in the hallway. He turned on his heel and began to walk toward his mother's room.

He was attempting to tie his stubborn bowtie when he ran headlong into someone.

"Ow!"

It was Susanna Bennet. She was dressed in an exquisite lilac-colored gown, and Ryan was almost struck speechless.

Almost.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" he grumbled.

"Me? It takes two, my friend," she replied curtly, rubbing her forehead.

"What happened to you?" he asked, not at all sympathetically, noticing a bruise on her forehead. She grunted.

"It's a long story."

There was an odd silence, before they both made to go, resulting in only bumping into each other once again.

"I'm going this way," she pointed down the hall.

"Well, I'm going that way," he replied, pointing the other way.

Without another word, they sidestepped each other and continued on their way. Ryan barely had time to roll his eyes when his mother appeared before him.

"Ryan! Why aren't you ready?" she scolded him. She was dressed in full regal gear, from crown-adorned head to gold-tipped shoe.

He only sighed while she reached up and quickly tied is sloppy bowtie.

"Be downstairs in ten minutes," she said warningly, giving him a stern look before going downstairs herself, surrounded by her ever-present bodyguards.

He turned just in time to see Susanna turn a corner into another hallway. Not wanting to ponder the marvel that was women, he went downstairs to take his place.

* * *

Susanna had been sent to go check on Alberta, who had supposedly sent all her assistants away for no apparent reason. She had unwillingly bumped into the prince as she was trying to get something off her shoe. Annoyed, yet strangely… not annoyed, she turned the corner and went into Alberta's room.

"Alberta?" she said softly, knocking lightly on the door.

"Yes?" a tearful voice came.

"It's Susanna," she said, letting herself in. Alberta was sitting on the window seat, her resplendent white gown surrounding her like a halo. She was breathing raggedly, and her face was tear-stained.

"Alberta, what's wrong?" Susanna said, crossing the room to sit next to her.

"Oh, Susanna, I didn't mean to do this now."

"Do what?"

"I don't think I can go through with this."

Susanna was shocked. She had expected 'the tents really weren't big enough' or 'there isn't enough salmon'. Not this. She thought quickly.

"Listen, everyone gets cold feet. It's normal."

Alberta shook her head. "Not like this. Susanna… he's a _prince_. He'll have all sorts of responsibilities that I never realized before."

"He'll still make time for you," she tried to console her.

"It's not just that. I know that I would become nothing more than a figurehead if I married him. I didn't spend all those years in Paris for nothing, Susanna! I want to do something with my life, not just sit back and make heirs." She began to sob again. Susanna placed a tentative arm around her.

"Alberta, Roberto would never let that happen to you. He would never let you become just some obscure princess in the background." Alberta began to cry harder, and Susanna felt genuinely sorry for her. She tried to think of something swiftly. "Think of this. You're marry _Roberto_. Roberto the man, not Roberto the prince. You're not marrying the crown, or Telera, or the queen, or even this castle. You are marrying Roberto. You love Roberto, for _who_ he is, not _what_ he is. Sure, there are going to be times when it's hard, but what else can you expect?" She paused; it seemed to be working, which freaked her out a little. "My point is, Roberto the _man_, is waiting for you downstairs, waiting to spend the rest of his life with you. Don't you want to go down and meet him?"

Alberta had stopped crying, enraptured by Susanna's speech. Susanna faltered, feeling stupid and uncomfortable. Suddenly, the bride-to-be reached over and hugged Susanna tightly.

"Oh, thank you Susanna! You're completely right, I was being foolish," Alberta said. Susanna smiled in relief and stood up.

"Well, I have to get downstairs. Good luck!" she said, crossing to the door.

"Thank you for everything, Susanna!" Alberta said.

Susanna left the room and took a breath. What had just happened? Had she just given advice? But she was terrible at giving advice… except on fashion. She shook her head in amazement and went downstairs.

* * *

The wedding was about to begin. The whole courtyard behind the castle was filled with chattering nobles. Ryan fiddled with his cufflinks, watching Bartholomew give Roberto some last-minute comfort.

"Ready for some vows?" Susanna suddenly popped up in between him and Roberto and Bartholomew. She smiled at him, fluttering some flowers in his face. He scowled, something he was doing a lot of these days.

"Not ours, I desperately hope," he said.

"You mean… you're mother didn't tell you?" she said, faking a sob. "I thought we were the ones getting married!" she exclaimed in a silly high-pitched voice, placing a hand to her forehead.

"You're really not that funny," he said to her, although he did feel like laughing.

"Other people think so," she replied, gesturing to the other girls who were laughing. He rolled his eyes, but she only smiled.

She was beautiful, if it weren't for the sarcastic smile that almost always adorned her face. She looked stunning in the bridesmaid gown, but he snapped himself out of it when he heard the music beginning.

"Here's our cue," she whispered to him, putting her arm through his. They took their place behind Bartholomew and the maid of honor. The archway that they were to walk through was garlanded with lilies, with a white satin path leading to the altar. They were practically pushed by the now-maniacal wedding planner to the pathway, walking in time with the music. Ryan nodded and smiled politely and the arrayed nobles, and nudged Susanna when he noticed she was hardly doing the same thing. She grunted, but plastered a fake smile on her face.

They reached the altar, parting ways. Ryan took his place beside Bartholomew, and Susanna took hers.

Once all the bridesmaids and groomsmen had reached their places, Alberta appeared as a vision of white, walking with her father.

But that was the last thing that Susanna remembered. She began to fiddle with her flowers as soon as the priest began to speak. About a half hour later, she looked across and saw Ryan fiddling with his cufflink. She smiled a little, and recommenced her flower games.

Suddenly, she heard a small 'ping!' and saw Ryan's gold cufflink rolling toward her. No one else seemed to notice, but Ryan was watching it with horror as it rolled across the altar. Susanna caught it underneath her shoe, and he smiled a bit. She smiled back, and just then the music took up again, and the ceremony was finally over.

* * *

"A superb ceremony. Your daughter is so lovely, Duchess Bennet," one haughty noble was saying to Susanna's mother. Susanna was having a difficult time restraining herself from eating her salmon all at once, and so completely missed the compliment.

The nobles around her made small talk, Susanna not joining in. She answered a few questions about New York, but mostly focused on what everyone was wearing.

Vivian had been right; it seemed to be the prime fashion event of the season. A dazzling array of designer gowns and chic tuxedos was before her, and she tried to take as many mental notes as she could.

People began to move outside as the orchestra started up. The summer night was cool, with a slight breeze. The bride and groom, silly grins constantly on their faces, waltzed to the first song, blissfully ignorant of the people around them. The crowd clapped as the song ended, and the music changed to an upbeat jazz. The bride and groom called on the bridal party to dance with them, and Susanna reluctantly stepped forward. The rest broke off into pairs, leaving Susanna with none other than the prince.

"Just because we don't like each other doesn't mean we have to make fools of ourselves," Ryan said as he came toward her. She rolled her eyes, but took his hand and they began to dance. Susanna actually felt quite comfortable, and eased herself into it.

"When do you return to New York?" he asked as he spun her around.

"The day after tomorrow," she answered. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just wondering."

"This is about as much as I can take at one time," she said.

He smiled. "Really?"

She gave an exasperated noise. "Yes. My mother will drive me mad if I stay any longer."

"She's not that bad," he said, not even believing himself.

She laughed. "Then you can pay for my therapy."

He finally laughed.

"Ha! See! I am funny!" she said triumphantly.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he said.

"Oh no you don't, you totally laughed!" she said with a smile.

He gave up, tipping her as the song ended. There was an awkward pause as they breathed, their mouths barely two inches apart. Then he swung her back up and let her go.

"If I don't see you before you leave, have a safe flight," he said, suddenly becoming business-like.

She nodded. "Yes, sir," she said, saluting him. He only gave her a look as he walked away, leaving her both confused and victorious.


	5. A Surprise

Chapter 5

Susanna awoke to the sun shining brightly and her cellphone vibrating like mad. She grunted and fumbled around for it, finally grasping it and pushing the button.

"'Ello?" she said, her voice raspy.

"Well, how was it?"

Susanna sighed, but sat up in her bed.

"Vivian… what time is it?" Susanna said.

"It's eleven o'clock!" Vivian replied. Susanna grunted again and looked at her watch. In Telera, it was three o'clock in the afternoon. She gasped and sat up straighter.

"Holy shit, Vivian, it's three o'clock!" Susanna cried.

"What? Oh right… I keep forgetting the time difference!"

"I can't _believe_ my mother didn't wake me up! It's a miracle," Susanna mused, running a hand through her hair, only to find that it was still in its fancy updo, albeit rather messy.

"So?"

"It was… tiring," Susanna answered, yawning. The reception had gone on into the wee hours of the morning, and Susanna's mother hadn't let Susanna leave.

"Oh, come on, Suzy."

"I took a lot of notes," Susanna said. She had finally been allowed to go get a notepad and pencil around midnight, and had started taking notes of all the various fashion.

"Suzy!" Vivian cried exasperatedly.

"What? Dammit, Viv, it's not my fault it went to four o'clock in the morning," Susanna replied, yawning again.

"Fine, then. Did you dance with anyone?"

"Yeah, with the prince once or twice."

"I knew it!"

"What?"

"I knew you didn't hate him!" Vivian exclaimed triumphantly.

"Whoa, no one ever said I didn't hate him. I was forced," Susanna reasoned.

Vivian sighed. "Susanna, tell the truth for once in your life."

Susanna avoided the remark. "I'll be home tomorrow. Right now, I'm starving, so I'll see you then."

"Suzy, wait –"

But Susanna hung up, falling back onto the pillows. She rolled over onto her stomach, reaching to her head and undoing her hair. It fell down her back, still curly. She finally willed herself to get out of bed, and walked to the balcony. She stretched, squinting in the sun.

"Susanna!"

She looked down and to her great surprise, saw Ryan, waving his hand at her. She knitted her brow, placing her hands on her hips.

"What are you doing?" she called.

"I'm coming up! Don't go anywhere!" he yelled, running up the stairs and into the house. She rushed forward and leaned over the railing, but he had gone inside. Checking to make sure she was decent, she straightened her tank top and pajama pants.

Suddenly her door flew open and a very excited Ryan rushed in.

"What is going on?" she demanded.

"I came to a revelation last night," he said, pacing the room. He was obviously somewhat hungover, and running only on adrenaline. He still wore his tux, although it was wrinkled and buttoned haphazardly.

"I was watching Roberto and Alberta last night and thinking, why don't I have that? I've been looking, trust me, and have found nothing in my life I would even consider committing to. So I then I thought, you know what? I've been Telera my _entire_ life!" he ranted heatedly.

Susanna was completely and utterly confused by this point.

"So I said, hey, this is probably why I have no meaning in my life. I need to go somewhere, away from Telera. That's the only way, Susanna."

"The only way to what?" she asked, bewildered.

"To find meaning! So I have come here to ask you something," he said, stopping his pacing and looking at her.

"And what is that?" she said, a little afraid of what she was about to hear.

"I want to come to New York with you."

She stopped short. "What?"

"I want to see something new, Susanna! And don't worry, I don't want to stay with you or anything… good God no, but at least I'll know someone." He paused. "I just want to see if maybe my life can change," he ended, sitting down on her bed, breathing hard.

Still perplexed, and yet unexpectedly understanding, she said, "Well, if you really want to…"

"Really?" he said, a smile on his face.

"Sure, why not?" she said dully.

"Good, because I've already booked the penthouse at the Plaza." She rolled her eyes at this. "I have to go pack," he said, standing up and making for the door.

"Ryan?" she said, and he stopped.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you get some sleep?" she recommended.

He sighed. "Yeah, I suppose I should. Don't want to look tired when I get to New York!" With that, he left.

Susanna plopped back down on her bed, totally amazed, not only at what he had said, but at what _she_ had said. Why had she said yes? The repercussions of this were bound to be terrible. And yet… she had felt sorry for him, going on about not having meaning in his life. Maybe he would find something in New York. And besides, it's not like she would see him all the time.

At least, that's what she hoped.

* * *

Ryan walked back to the castle, still surprised at himself. Susanna was sure to think he was a complete and utter idiot… but she had said yes. And why was that? Had what he said really made an impact on her?

He had meant every word of it, to be sure. But he had been positive that she was only going to laugh at him… he groaned, holding his head in his hand. He had had one too many glasses of champagne last night, plus he hadn't gotten any sleep. Perhaps he should take Susanna's advice and go to bed…

He had stayed awake all morning, first convincing his mother that he truly wanted to go to New York, and then making plans. The idea had just hit him… it made sense. He was obviously finding nothing in Telera, so why not leave?

He reached the castle and made it to his room, which looked more like a disaster zone. Clothes were strewn everywhere, arbitrarily packed into many suitcases. Bypassing them, he went to his bathroom and took some aspirin. Staggering back, he fell onto his bed.

He lay on his back, trying to make sense of it all. By tomorrow, he could be on to a new life.

At least, that's what he hoped. :)

* * *

Susanna didn't bother changing, and went downstairs to find some food. Her mother was nowhere to be found, which both surprised and relieved her.

She went to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator. Grabbing the milk carton, she found a glass and quickly filled it. Gulping the milk, she fortuitously found a bagel in the cabinet. She cut it and slathered it with cream cheese. Gathering up the milk carton, her glass, her bagel, and a plate, she staggered outside to the patio. The sun was warm and welcoming as she unloaded her burden onto the table.

She happily refilled her glass, and ripped into the bagel. She was having a grand time, successfully getting cream cheese all over her face, when an unfriendly sound ruined her contentment.

"Susanna, I just heard the news!"

Her mother flew out the door, but to Susanna's great surprise, her mother was still in her bathrobe, her hair in curlers. Susanna tried not to laugh as her mother came closer and sat down.

"The prince is coming to New York with you!" her mother cried, mechanically reaching over and rubbing the cream cheese off Susanna's face.

"Mother," Susanna moaned and flapped her mother's hands away.

"You must introduce him to all our friends," her mother continued. "You know, the Rutherfords, the Seaborgs, the Bohrs… oh no, wait, they're in Greece…"

"Mother, just let me handle this on my own, please?" Susanna said, sighing.

Her mother tsked, but then seemed to realize she was in her bathrobe.

"I'll see you at dinner," she said hurriedly, and then rushed off.

Susanna laughed, but finished her bagel in peace. She then took her cellphone off its clip on her pants, and dialed Vivian's number.

"Hello?" Vivian answered.

"Viv, it's me."

"Suzy!"

"Listen, you will not believe what I am about to tell you," Susanna said.

"What? What is it?"

"Guess what I am bringing home?"

"What? What?" Vivian said eagerly.

"Guess!" Susanna baited her.

"Suzy!"

"Fine. The prince!"

"What?!?" Vivian squealed.

"He wants to come to New York, so come to New York he shall," Susanna said, standing up and walking along the patio.

"Oh my God!" Vivian shrieked. "This is amazing! See? I was right. You don't hate him."

"I _don't _hate him… I strongly dislike him," Susanna said.

"Oh come off it. If you do hate him, what is the _valid _reason?" Vivian challenged.

Susanna paused. "I don't know, we've just never gotten along," she said, thinking.

"Really? There's no horrible story behind it all?"

"Not really. He used to boss me around as a kid… we had the same tutor and he used to brag about how he beat me in every subject… I guess it just sorta carried on into when we grew up."

"People change, Susanna," Vivian said.

Susanna hardened. "No they don't. They only pretend to to get what they want," she said. She heard Vivian sigh.

"You can't be that cynical, Suzy."

"Watch me," Susanna said, her eye catching the irises surrounding the mansion; they were her father's favorite.

"Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you _and_ the prince quite soon, then?" Vivian said.

"Yes, I… I mean, _we_ get in at five tomorrow."

"See you then, Suzy."

"Goodbye." Susanna hung up the phone with a click. She tossed it back onto the table and walked to the irises. She lowered herself down onto the balls of her feet, smelling the tall flowers' scent. A prick of tears formed behind her eyes, but she contained them.

"He's dead," she whispered, her only answer that of a summer breeze. She shook her head and stood up, and walked back to the table. She gathered up all her stuff, and with one last look, she went inside.

She dropped her stuff off at the kitchen and went back to her room. She decided to take a bath, so she ran some hot water and went to her cabinet of bath collections. She took some bubble bath and scents and added them to the water. The scent of hibiscus, her favorite scent, soothed her overworked senses and she slid into the water.

She stayed in there for over half an hour, until she felt relaxed but rather pruny. She got out and decided she might as well look nice for dinner, and so got dressed in a light, summery purple dress.

Still having over an hour until dinner, she began to pack her many suitcases back up with clothes. She tossed in her notes from the previous night and took some of the stuff from her bathroom.

Pausing for a moment, she went to her balcony, looking out on the sun setting across the Teleran countryside. She missed New York, but how much different would it be with the prince now there?

"I hope I've made the right choice," she said to herself, before going down to dinner.

* * *

"Take a taxicab at all times. Never the subway. Don't trust other people's directions. And don't go down any alleyway that is not properly lit."

The queen was giving Ryan some last minute advice before he left for New York. He ate his dinner quietly, not bothering to try and interrupt her. There was a pit in the bottom of his stomach, but whether it was anxiety or excitement, he couldn't tell.

When he had finally escaped dinner and his mother had shed a tear or two, he went back to his room, which looked empty except for the massive suitcases in the middle of the room. He undressed to his boxers; his pajamas were already in his suitcase. He lay on his back on his bed, contemplating what he supposed he would do once he got to New York. He fell asleep wondering.

The beginning of the rest of his life was about to begin.


	6. It's A Phase

Chapter 6

"I can't believe it."

"Believe it."

"Feel the soothing, peaceful, _silence_."

Susanna and Vivian were at their weekly yoga class, attempting to feel the soothing, peaceful silence. Susanna and Ryan had flown into New York just two days ago, but Susanna hadn't heard from him once. Vivan was still in shock over the whole matter, although Susanna just wished to forget about it.

They stood in a rather uncomfortable position, the morning sun drenching the airy studio. With one leg out to the side and one arm reaching behind her back, Susanna tried to stay on balance, and was actually doing so quite well. Vivian, however, wasn't. She suddenly fell to the floor with a thud, and Susanna couldn't help but laugh. The teacher glided over and helped Vivian get back into position, but Vivian was laughing so hard herself that the teacher finally clicked her tongue and walked away.

They were finally allowed out of position and the class was over. Susanna and Vivian grabbed their bags and headed for the showers. Susanna still had to go to work, although it was already ten o'clock.

The two stripped off their sweaty yoga clothes and hopped into the shower.

"So when do I get to meet him then?" Vivian asked through the wall separating them.

"I don't know, I haven't even _heard_ from him yet," Susanna answered. She turned the faucet so that the water was steaming hot; her muscles were stiff and not functioning properly.

"I hope he hasn't gotten himself killed."

Susanna laughed. "I think we would have heard about it."

"Then maybe he's lost. Maybe he got stranded in SoHo or something."

Susanna didn't answer as she dunked her head under the water. She hurriedly finished washing her body, and then got out.

"I really need to get to work," she said to Vivian, who liked to take immensely long showers. "I'll call you later."

"Alright. Ciao, babe."

Susanna dried off to her best ability and quickly put on black chinos and a white top. She braided her hair without drying it and left the building swiftly.

She wasn't far from her office when her phone rang. She cursed silently and rummaged through her bag for it.

"Hello?"

"Where do you work?" It took only a moment to figure out it was the prince.

"Why? And where have you been?"

"Sightseeing, of course." She rolled her eyes. "I want to visit you at work."

"Because?" she asked, not really caring about the answer.

"Because, I have to ask you something."

She sighed. "Get a cab and tell them 5th and 59th, the Brittania store. I'm on the tenth floor."

"Thanks. See you soon!" He hung up.

She made an irritated sound in her throat, and crossed the street to the store. She pushed through enthusiastic shoppers and finally reached the elevators.

Walking hastily to her office, she was joined by Mr. Simmons.

"Good morning, Susanna," he said, walking alongside her.

"Good morning, sir."

"Yoga morning, I presume?" he said with amusement.

She laughed. "Yes, how could you tell?"

"You're wearing flat shoes, and you only wear flat shoes on yoga days."

She smiled. "You know me well."

They reached her office, where Darcy hopped up and handed Susanna her messages. She looked through them quickly before setting them back down.

"Now," Mr. Simmons continued, "what's all this about the prince in town?"

Susanna was brought up short. "What? How do you know?"

"A very excited Vivian Zyan came into the office yesterday looking for you. I suppose she couldn't help herself."

Susanna sighed. "It's the younger one. He wanted to see New York, so he came home with me. He's dropping by later if you want to meet him."

"I would, but I've got to catch a flight to L.A. What time is it?"

"Ten fifteen, sir," Darcy piped up, and then resumed her typing.

"I've got to get going. I'll see you in two days," he said, walking away.

"Have a good flight, sir," Susanna said. She turned back to Darcy.

"Darcy-"

But Darcy held up a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin before Susanna could finish. Susanna smiled.

"Thanks, Darcy. If a man with blonde hair comes, tell him-"

"Susanna!" Susanna clenched her jaw and turned to see Ryan striding down the hall, all the female eyes watching him. She rolled her eyes; he wore faded jeans with a polo shirt, and instead of smiling at her, he smiled at Darcy, who had stood up and was gawking at him.

"Good morning, ladies," he said, switching to his suave, charming voice, which was obviously working on Darcy but not on Susanna.

"What do you want, Ryan?" she said shortly.

He reluctantly turned to her. "Aren't you going to introduce me?" he said with a smile. She pursed her lips.

"Darcy, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is my assistant Darcy Clevell," she said flatly.

He smiled and took Darcy's hand, giving it a light kiss. Darcy blushed furiously, her meek face going into a smile. Darcy was actually quite pretty, in that modest, docile sort of way. Her curly blonde hair was always pulled up, and she wore black reading glasses on her pale blue eyes. Susanna watched them with an eyebrow raised.

"An honor, Miss Clevell," Ryan said smoothly, still holding her hand. Darcy's pale face was beet red, but a grin now adorned her face. Ryan was obviously going for this effect, but Susanna cut in.

"Darcy, go see if you can catch Mr. Simmons, and give him this," Susanna said forcefully, putting a pack of pictures in her hand, making Ryan drop his.

Darcy nodded, and with a quick look at Ryan, she scurried away. Ryan watched her walk away, and then turned to Susanna, who gave him a reproachful look.

"What?" he said defensively.

"You're sickening," she said, opening her door and going into her office.

"Me? You're the one who's sickening," he said, following her.

She turned around. "Me? How, pray tell?"

"You ordered her around like a slave!"

"I do not!"

"You didn't even say 'please'!"

"She's my _assistant_. It's her job," she retorted, "you moron," she added quietly.

"I heard that," he said.

She rolled her eyes, plopping her bag onto the desk.

"What do you want?" she said again.

His jaw tightened, but he said, "Well, I was going to ask _you_ to come with me to a dinner the Countess Alera is having, but I think I'll ask someone _else_."

"Who else could you possibly ask?" she said, before it dawned on her. "You can't ask my assistant!" she exclaimed.

"Why not?" he said amusedly, sitting on the arm of a chair.

"Because! It just…"

"Isn't right?" he finished. "I know! It's brilliant! Yesterday, my mother called my and told me that countess' daughter was in town-"

"Jennifer? I hate that girl."

"I know, but my mother seemed to think this was a great matchmaking opportunity. How great would it be if she heard that I showed up to the dinner with an _assistant_?"

"So you are going to use my assistant to get back at your mother."

"I'm not going to _use_ her. It just happened to work out that way."

"Well, it won't be just you're mother that you'll be shocking."

"I know! Everyone wants me to fall in love with a countess or a duchess or some noble. It's perfect!"

"Are you sure you're not just trying to be rebellious? Everyone goes through a phase like this," she said, as if talking to a child.

He snorted. "Yeah, when they're eighteen. I'm a grown man! I don't go through phases," he said.

She sighed. "It's very… Cinderella-esque."

"Yeah… except you're the fairy godmother."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"Take her shopping, get her hair done, the whole works. It's Friday night at seven."

Susanna's jaw had dropped. "Oh no, I'm not being part of your little scheme."

"Why not?"

"Because! It's sad and pathetic."

He grunted, but before he could answer the door opened. Darcy stood there, trying to catch her breath. Ryan turned his head and smiled; Susanna crossed her arms.

"I'm… sorry, Miss… Bennet, but… Mr… Simmons… already left," Darcy got out.

Before Susanna could answer, however, Ryan had stood up.

"Say, Darcy, I know we only just met, but I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner with me on Friday?" Ryan said, smooth and debonair.

Darcy blushed, and looked to Susanna. Susanna, however, made no expression, so Darcy turned back to the prince. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, before she said, "Yes, I suppose so."

He smiled. "Excellent. I'll pick you up at six thirty." He reached for her hand again, giving it a longer kiss this time. "Goodbye," he said to her, but she only smiled and nodded. He turned to Susanna. "Goodbye, Susanna."

She rolled her eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. He began to walk away, leaving a dazed Darcy in the doorway. Susanna walked after him.

"You're despicable," she said, holding her hand in the elevator to prevent it from closing. He was inside, smiling at her.

"I would think you'd be more supportive," he said with fake shock. "What if this is true love? I would have you to thank for it."

She grunted, and he pressed the close button. She stepped away and the doors closed on his smiling face. She turned on her heel and walked back to her office.

"Darcy, make an appointment with Ralph Lauren for Thursday afternoon," she said. Darcy still stood in the door, staring at her hand. Her head snapped up when Susanna spoke.

"Yes, of course. What is it for?" she asked.

Susanna sighed. "It's for you."

* * *

"He's taking your _assistant_?" Vivan squealed a few minutes later.

"Yes, and _I_ have to get her ready." Susanna was beyond angry; she squeezed her stress ball so hard it popped and the gooey stuff inside oozed out. "Eh, shit."

"Isn't that, like… not proper?"

"Yes! Everyone will freak," Susanna said, wiping her hands off. "Especially his mother."

"Does he really like her?"

Susanna dropped her voice. "I don't think so. He's just going through a phase."

"It's very Cinderella."

"That's what I said."

"Well, listen, I gotta run, but I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah," Susanna said.

"See you, fairy godmother!" Vivian hung up.

Susanna hung her phone up with a click.

"I wonder if Ralph Lauren makes glass slippers."


	7. Of Having Fun

Chapter 7

            Friday morning, Susanna awoke with a groan. She had been dreading this day all week, but here it was. She had told Darcy she would meet her at Ralph Lauren at nine o'clock, since they couldn't get an appointment on Thursday, and it was already eight. She showered quickly and threw on some jeans and a nicer top.

            Staggering out of her apartment, she grabbed her phone and called Ryan.

            "You're still going through with this, right?" her voice not at all friendly.

            "Of course, why?" he said cheerfully.

            "Just making sure I'm not about to waste my time," she said, adding quietly, "although I probably will anyways."

            "Have fun!" he said, but she only grunted and hung up.

            She stopped at a deli and bought a bagel and the tallest, biggest coffee they had. Trying to not think of the day ahead of her, she sipped it carefully as she walked through the morning crowds.

            She reached Ralph Lauren at five to nine, but Darcy already stood there, her hands wringing and shaking.

            She saw Susanna and jumped a little. "Good morning, Miss Bennet."

            "Morning. What's wrong?" Susanna said.

            "Oh!" she tore her hands apart and put them at her sides. "Nothing, nothing's wrong." She paused. "Is what I'm wearing okay to try on clothes? Because I wasn't really sure and I was up at six trying to decide, and…"

            "It's fine," Susanna said, trying to calm her down. Darcy wore a plain pair of gray slacks and a white cardigan. Her hair was up as usual, and she wore her black glasses.

            "Let's go in," Susanna said, taking her by the elbow only to find her still shaking.

            They were ushered in and taken to a round fitting room filled with all sorts of evening gowns. Darcy's jaw dropped when she walked in, but Susanna grumbled under her breath. A lot of gowns equaled a lot of time. She sat on the bench as their fitter came in, a young blonde man with measuring tape all around his neck.

            "What is the occasion?" he asked, sorting out the racks of dresses.

            "A fancy dinner party," Susanna answered.

            "What?" Darcy cried. "I thought it was just me and Ryan!"

            Oops, Susanna thought. Darcy's shaking commenced once more, but the man had placed at least half a dozen dresses in her arms and pushed her behind the curtain.

            A minute or two later, she emerged wearing a bright purple, sleeveless gown with a long slit up the side. But the moment she appeared, Susanna said, "Hmm. Not your color. Try the next one."

            Darcy nodded and went back behind the curtain, and came back out with a light pink, ruffled dress that hit just below the knee. "Nice style," Susanna said. "But it washes you out too much."

            Darcy went back behind the curtain. They repeated this for at least twenty dresses, with Susanna shooting them all down.

            But then, finally, Darcy came out from behind the curtain wearing a silk, sapphire blue gown that draped at the neck and went all the way to the floor.

            Susanna smiled and said, "Perfect! Everything… the color brings out your eyes, you don't look too pale, and it's perfect for you figure! Look!"

            She steered Darcy in front of the three way mirror. Darcy gasped, and fingered the gown, as if she thought it wasn't quite real. As Darcy continued to gape at herself, Susanna motioned for the man to come over.

            "A little bit at the hem," she said. "If she's wearing heels, it needs to be higher." He nodded, and put the pins in their right places.

            Together they looked Darcy over, until he said, "A little in right here," pinching some in at the small of her back. Susanna nodded, but otherwise, she thought, it was perfect. Looking at her watch, it was five after eleven, and they still had to go shoe shopping before noon.

            "Alright, time to go. We'll come back and pick it up at four," Susanna said, dragging Darcy away from the mirror.

            It took a few minutes, but Darcy finally came out with her original clothes on and the dress draped delicately in her arms. She reluctantly gave it to the young man, who whisked it out of the room.

            "Come on," Susanna said as they walked out of the building. "Shoes call."

            Darcy gave a small smile as they walked about fifteen minutes from Madison Avenue to the Brittania store. They mulled over shoes for almost an hour, finally deciding on silvery-blue pair.

            "Now remember," Susanna said as they walked out. "Hair at two o'clock, and then we'll pick up your dress at four, and then get your makeup done at five, alright?"

            "Yes," Darcy nodded, and Susanna began to walk away.

            "Miss Bennet?" Darcy called after her, and Susanna grudgingly turned around.

            "Yes?"

            "How many people will be there?" Darcy asked, her voice fairly dripping in nervousness.

            Susanna rolled her eyes, unseen behind her sunglasses. "Probably about twenty, or so."

            "Twenty?" Darcy cried in shock.

            "Trust me, the more people the better. Then they pay less attention to you," Susanna explained.

            Darcy nodded. "Alright," she said, but her hands were shaking once again.

            Susanna bit her lip; she felt like she should invite Darcy to lunch, just to try and calm her down. Oh, what the hell. "Darcy, you want to come to lunch with me?"

            Darcy looked even more shocked about that than she had about the dinner party. "Um, sure. I'd like that."

            They walked a short way to one of Susanna's favorite Italian restaurants further down on Fifth. They talked almost the whole time, Darcy asking questions and Susanna trying to answer them as unbiased as possible.

            They finished at nearly a quarter to two, and hurriedly walked to the beauty salon where Susanna had booked an appointment. The instant they walked in, the hairstylist who was to do Darcy's hair began talking.

            "Elegant, swept up, out of her face… maybe a few wisps to frame her face… what do you think about a bit of sparkle! Perhaps a barrette!"

            Susanna held up a hand to get him to slow down. "Sounds fine. Let's just get started."

            He nodded and led Darcy back to the sinks and quickly washed her hair. Settling into a chair, Susanna waited for them to come back.

            "Have you ever thought about highlights, miss?" the hairstylist was saying, leading Darcy back.

            Susanna cocked her head, and said, "Actually, that's not a bad idea."

            The stylist looked at her with excitement. "Yes!"

            "Really?" Darcy said, fingering her hair.

            "Just to brighten it up a bit," Susanna said. "Not much."

            Darcy looked up at Susanna, who was standing over her, also fingering her hair. She smiled and said, "Sure, why not?"

            It took an extra half hour to highlight, so Susanna sat in the lobby, reading an old issue of Vogue that had a column of hers in it. Suddenly, she found a picture of the perfect hairstyle for Darcy, and quickly ripped it out.

            "Miss?" someone called to her. She looked up abruptly. "Miss Darcy wants your help with the style."

            Susanna nodded and went back, where Darcy, who sat gazing at herself in the mirror, looked fantastic. Her hair was brighter, and had been somehow straightened, and she had taken her glasses off, so that she looked very pretty.

            "Wow," Susanna said, sitting in the chair next to her.

            "What do you think?" Darcy asked, running a hand through her hair.

            "It looks great," Susanna said. "Look, I found this," she said, giving Darcy the picture.

            "It's perfect!" Darcy cried. They gave it to the hairstylist, who pronounced that it was fabulous, and set to work.

            As Darcy's hair was being done, Susanna sat back and nearly laughed at herself. She was having fun! But why? Was it Darcy, or just that Susanna hadn't made someone over in a long time? She became so lost in thought that Darcy had to clear her throat loudly to get her attention.

            Darcy's hair had been swept up into an elegant twist at the back of her head. A few delicate wisps hung down, and a few jewels sparkled in her hair. Susanna clapped.

            "It's wonderful," she said, but then looked at her watch. It was after four o'clock, so Susanna hurriedly gathered Darcy up, paid, and left.

            The rest of the day, including the dress, the makeup, and the final touches, were all a rushed blur. It was nearly quarter after six when Susanna finally got to sit down. Ryan was picking Darcy up at Susanna's apartment, so Darcy was upstairs still getting a few things ready. Susanna grabbed a bag of chips and flipped her kitchen TV on, sitting on the counter and resting her head against the cabinets. She had actually closed her eyes when the door rang.

            Groaning, she hopped down from the counter and walked to her door. The prince stood on the other side, dressed in a smart tuxedo and holding a bouquet of flowers.

            "Is she ready?" he asked, letting himself in.

            "Hello to you, too," she mumbled, closing the door. "You had better be thanking me. I have spent all day not only getting her ready but trying to calm her down. She's very nervous."

            He was about to answer when Darcy came down the steps. Something strange seemed to happen then. Ryan's eyes sort of glazed over, and Darcy seemed to slow down, her mouth partway open. Susanna crossed her arms, ignoring the thick tension in the air.

            Ryan finally cleared his throat and said, "You look… lovely, Miss Clevell." He handed her the bouquet. "These are for you."

            She blushed furiously and took them. "Thank you." They looked into each other's eyes for several moments, and Susanna felt like vomiting.

            "Shall we?" Ryan finally said, extending his elbow. Darcy took it, and staring at each other, left the apartment.

            Susanna shut the door with a slam. "Your welcome!" she yelled at it, rather pointlessly.

            Grumbling, she went to her room and changed into some sweats. Coming back down, she heated up some leftover pizza and flipped the TV back on, but she didn't really watch it.

            "That was disgusting," she muttered to herself. "You look lovely," she mimicked in a false voice. "Why, thank you. Of course, I only look lovely because of Susanna, but who cares about her and all that she did?" she went on in a high voice. Switching back to her own, she mumbled, "Who cares, anyway? Let them be all infatuated. He'll get what's coming to him. He'll-"

            She was broken from her temporary insanity when the phone rang.

            "Hello?"

            "He did it!" It was Vivian.

            "Did what? And who?" Susanna asked, confused.

            "Remember Tristan? The guy from L.A.?" Vivian said.

            "Um… yeah."

            "He finally asked me out!" she shrieked.

            "Good," Susanna said, not nearly as excited.

            "I know! We're going to dinner in a few minutes. I wanted to ask though; that red dress I got from Barney's? Is that too slutty?"

            Susanna racked her brain, until she remembered the low cut, high slit dress that Vivian had insisted on buying.

            "Yes! Way too slutty!" Susanna said.

            "Damn, I was afraid so. Well, I'll find something. Wish me luck!"

            "Good luck," Susanna said flatly. She hung up with a click and finished her pizza. Great, so everyone would be out having fun tonight except for her. Sighing, she grabbed a spoon and a pint of ice cream and went to her theater room, where a large flat screen television hung on the wall. She went to her massive closet full of DVDs, and grabbed a bunch of old movies.

            It was half past nine and Susanna had already eaten all of the ice cream and had watched two movies and was part way through her third. She stood up, stretched, and walked across the hall to kitchen, where she threw out the ice cream carton and put the spoon in the dishwasher.

            As she walked back into the theater room, however, she screamed. A man stood out on the fire escape, tapping his finger on the window.

            "I'm not trying to break in!" he yelled, his voice muffled. "I live below you, but I got locked out!"

            She put a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath. She walked over and unlocked the screen door. The man hurried inside.

            "Thank you," he said. "I'm sorry for scaring you… this is so embarrassing."

            She chuckled. "It's fine." It was dim, but she could tell he had dark brown, curly hair and was very, very handsome.

            "It's actually my brother who lives below you, I'm just visiting. He's not home, even though he _said_ he would be," he went on. "Do you have any idea how I could get into the apartment?"

            "You could call Mr. Jennings," she said. "The super."

            "Right," he said, but then his eye caught the TV. "_Charade_?" he said, gesturing to the movie that was playing.

            "Yeah," she said. "Do you like that movie?"

            "I love that movie!" he said avidly, but then became subdued. "My name is Keith, by the way."

            "Susanna," she said, and they shook hands. Suddenly, she was struck by an insane impulse. "Listen, if you're locked out, you're welcome to stay up here and watch it with me… I don't know when your brother's coming home, but…" she trailed off.

            He smiled. "Really?"

            "Sure."

            "That'd be great," he said.

            They sat down on the couch and she began the movie from the beginning. They had a great time, acting out parts of the movie and yelling things at the screen. It was close to eleven when Keith reluctantly decided he should go see if his brother was home. She walked him out to the door, suddenly painfully aware of the grungy sweats she was wearing in the light of the hall. He, however, was dressed in a nice pair of black slacks and a crisp, white shirt. His hair fell to the nape of his neck, and he smiled at her as he stood at the door.

            "Thank you, Susanna," he said, and she noticed his eyes were a deep brown.

            She smiled. "Don't mention it."

            He nodded. "I'll see you around?"

            "Yeah, definitely."

            "Good night, then."

            "Good night," she said, and he stepped into the elevator as she closed her door.

            She laughed at herself; surprisingly, it seemed she hadn't been the only one to not have fun that night.


	8. Don't Even Like Him

Chapter 8

Susanna left her apartment the next day to go to her office, her briefcase stuffed full with files. Even though it was Saturday, the whole staff had to come in since Mr. Simmons had just returned. She leaned against the wall of the elevator and glanced at her phone. She rolled her eyes: 5 missed calls. She pushed a button and up popped the five calls: Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. She grunted, but didn't call him back. Something told her he was most likely still in bed.

She walked through the store, which hadn't opened yet, and automatically straightened out a few hats as she walked by. She stepped into the mirrored elevator, and making sure no one was coming in after her, she checked her teeth. She'd had a poppy seed bagel that morning, and she always managed to get the seeds in her teeth. She was attempting to pick at them when the door opened again. Her hand flew to her side, and she stepped out, still to trying to get at it with her tongue. She nodded good morning to the grumpy and cranky staff, who did not appreciate coming to work on a Saturday morning.

She rounded the corner to her office, but stopped abruptly when she saw not a blonde head of hair behind the secretary desk, but a red one. Highly suspicious, she walked slowly toward it.

"Where's Darcy?" she asked, when she saw a red-haired, freckled-nosed, nervous girl at the desk.

"She couldn't come in today, Miss Bennet," the girl said, her voice shaking.

Susanna locked her jaw, her lips pursed. "That stupid prince," she muttered.

"I'm sorry, Miss Bennet?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, but opened her phone and angrily dialed Ryan's number.

"'Ello?" his raspy voice came.

"Where the hell is my secretary?" she demanded.

There was a pause. "Susanna?"

"Where is she?" Susanna insisted.

Another pause. "I don't know," he said, not at all believable.

Just then a muffled, distinctively _female_ voice could be heard on his end. Susanna moved a little down the hall.

"Bullshit," she hissed. "She's right next to you!"

"No she's not."

"You slept with my secretary?!" she said, trying to keep her voice down.

"Are we done yet?"

Susanna paused. "Arrrrrrgh!" She made an angry noise and slammed her phone shut. Noticing the anxious replacement-secretary looking at her, she took several deep breaths to try and calm down. Then she turned on her heel and walked back to her office.

She picked up her briefcase and said to the girl, "Get me at ten o'clock for the staff meeting."

The girl nodded, and Susanna opened the doors to her office. Throwing her briefcase on the sofa, she gasped.

On her desk sat a gorgeous, massive bouquet of flowers in a beautiful purple vase. All sorts of colorful, fragrant flowers spilled over onto her desk. Her mouth slightly open, Susanna walked toward it, the prince forgotten for the moment. A card sat amongst the petals and she pulled it out. It simply said: _Lunch? –Keith_. She smiled, and from then on her morning was significantly happier.

* * *

Susanna really had no reason to be at the staff meeting, as she had all the fall fashion lined up. She tried to pay attention as she chewed on the top of a doughnut – she only liked the tops. But her thoughts slowly drifted away, and she began to ponder whether or not she should call Keith and tell him to meet her at her apartment so she could change, or did she look fine in what she was wearing now? And was this a date, or just two friends going for lunch? And if it was a date, where was this going? But what if it wasn't a date?

"Susanna," she heard, from what seemed like many miles away. "Susanna!" This time she heard it sharply, and jerked herself out of her reverie and looked to Mr. Simmons, who was looking at her with a slight smile on his face.

"Do we have the junior department under control?" he asked her.

"Yes, completely," she said.

He nodded and said, "Good. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone hustled to stand up and leave the room. Susanna saw the nervous redhead trying to push her way in and towards Susanna. Susanna was the last to stand, and she closed the folder in front of her and put it in her briefcase as the girl fought her way toward her.

"Miss Bennet!" the girl cried, finally emerging from the crowd. "There's someone to see you."

Susanna quickly looked at her watch, and was astounded to see it was already half past noon.

"Thank you," she said, gathering up her things and heading to her office. Keith stood in her office, looking at the fashion posters that hung on her walls.

"Sorry," she said as she came in, dumping her briefcase onto her desk. He turned around when she spoke, and his mouth slightly opened as he looked at her.

"Well, you clean up rather nicely," he said, an odd smile on his face.

She chuckled. "Thank you," she said, and unconsciously ran a hand through her hair. "And thank you for the flowers. How did you find out where I worked?"

"Mrs. Johannsen," he replied, and Susanna rolled her eyes at the thought of her kooky neighbor upstairs. "Is this a bad time or…?"

"No, it's fine," she said. "I'm done for the day, actually."

"Good," he said. "What kind of food do you like?"

She put her briefcase under her desk and walked around to lead him out. "For lunch I usually just eat in the park."

"Sounds good," he said as they walked to the elevator.

"Do you like deli sandwiches?"

"Love them!"

She smiled. "Good. There's this great deli just across the street."

They got into the elevator, and Susanna tried to subtly check herself in the mirrors. She straightened her black and white, flared skirt, and delicately brushed off her black blazer and white blouse. Her skirt hit just above the knee, and without quite realizing it, she somewhat seductively crossed her bronzed legs.

Keith looked as nice as he had the night before. He wore gray slacks and a very flattering light blue dress shirt. The elevator opened before Susanna was caught staring at him, and she led him through the crowded store and outside.

They got their sandwiches from Susanna's deli (only after Susanna tried to fight with him about him paying for hers) and then crossed the street to Bryant Park, where they luckily found an open table and sat down to eat.

"So," Keith began as the set themselves up. "What country are you from?"

"Is it obvious?" she asked.

"It was to me."

"I'm from Telera."

He showed no sign of recognition. She smiled.

"I doubt you've heard of it. It's a very small country in Europe," she explained, taking a huge bite of her sandwich.

"Interesting," he said. "So why are you in New York?"

She swallowed and said, "Well, in Telera, by now I'd be married, have three kids, and would never ever have a career."

"I see," he said. "Old-fashioned?"

"Very. So I moved to New York five years ago and got out of it."

"You were able to do that?"

"Well, it wasn't easy," she said, pausing to take a drink. "But my father warmed to it after awhile and let me go. My mother, on the other hand…" she made a face, and took another bite.

Keith chuckled. "Not so warm, huh?"

"As freezing as possible. But she puts on a happy face and deals with it, I suppose. A few years ago it was a huge scandal, but no one really cares anymore." She took a drink. "What about you?"

He took a drink, then said, "Well, I've lived in L.A. for a few years now, but I grew up in Connecticut and I really missed the East Coast. My brother moved to the city last year with his wife, so I'm staying with them until I can find a place."

"What did you do in L.A.?"

He swallowed and said, "Right after college I was offered to be one of the curators for the Museum of Contemporary Art. It's a great job, it's just… I really hate L.A., you know what I mean?"

She nodded, her mouth full of turkey.

"So I figure I'd just try my luck here. That's why I'm dressed like this; I've already been to two interviews this morning."

And so they ate and talked, and then sat and talked long after their sandwiches were gone. It was nearly three o'clock when they decided they should be heading home. They walked at a leisurely pace back to the apartment building.

"I'll take you up," Keith said.

"What a gentleman," Susanna said with a smile.

"Well, there aren't many of us left, are there?"

She smiled wider, but he suddenly blushed and looked down to his shoes. The elevator stopped and the doors opened, but Susanna grunted to find none other than the prince in her little lobby. He looked up as the doors slid open, and was about to say something when he noticed Keith.

"What are you doing here?" Susanna said, trying to keep her anger in for Keith's sake.

"Who's that?" Ryan jerked his head to Keith, who stood awkwardly at the elevator doors.

Susanna sighed. "Ryan, this is Keith. Keith this is Ryan."

They shook hands, but Ryan let go rather quickly.

"Nice to… meet you," Keith said, his voice trailing off.

"Keith and I were just having lunch," Susanna said, watching Ryan carefully. Something passed over his face as he looked at Keith, and it looked an awful lot like resentment.

"I'll get going," Keith said uncomfortably, stepping back into the elevator. "I'll see you later, Susanna," he said as the doors closed.

Once they were shut, Susanna whirled around. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Me? What the hell are you doing?" he countered.

"_I'm_ not doing anything, _you're_ the one sleeping around," she said angrily, fumbling for her keys.

"It wasn't like that!"

"Oh really?" she said, jabbing her key into the door. "I had a replacement secretary today, you want to sleep with her, too?" She slammed her door open.

"First of all, nothing happened, and second of all, it's none of your damn business!" he said, charging in after her. "Besides, it seems I'm not the only one fooling around here!"

"What?"

"Keith! Why are you dating _him_?"

"What? Suddenly I need _your_ approval of whom I can date?" she said, heatedly tearing off her blazer and throwing it on the table.

"Well, not _that_ guy!"

"What's wrong with Keith?"

There was a pause. "I don't like him."

"Oh, right, because you can really tell from one handshake," she said with angry sarcasm.

"_I_ can."

"All we did was have lunch! Unlike some people, I don't have sex on the first date!" she yelled.

"We didn't _do_ anything!" he yelled back. "It was late, she fell asleep at my place!"

"Oh right, because the couch is sooo far away, she just _had_ to fall asleep next to you!"

"You're impossible!" he said, making for the door. "I'm leaving!"

"Fine! Good riddance!" she said, following him and grabbing the door. "And stop sleeping with my secretary!" she yelled before she slammed the door shut behind him.

"Forget him," she said, trying to relax her muscles, which had tensed during their fight. She climbed the steps to her room, unbuttoning her shirt. She ran a bath in her gilded tub and slipped in, her anger calming down.

She was still trying to rid her mind of the prince when the phone that hung by the tub rang. She sighed but looked at the Caller ID, which said Vivian. She dried her hand on a nearby towel and pushed the answer button.

"Hey Viv," she said, her voice sullen.

"Hey… what's wrong?" Vivian's voice came through the speaker.

"That… prince, that's what's wrong."

"Oh, dear. What happened?"

"Well, I was having lunch with this really great guy from downstairs-"

"Cute?"

"Totally. Anyways, he brought me back to my apartment and there's Ryan. Of course it was very awkward for Keith-"

"Keith?"

"The guy from downstairs."

"Right. Carry on."

"So he leaves all abruptly. Then, you know how Ryan took my secretary to dinner last night?"

"Yeah."

"Well, this morning when I called him, she's right there in bed next to him!"

"No!"

"Yes! So I, of course, yell at him for sleeping with my secretary on the first date, and he's like 'Nothing happened', and I said, 'Bull, I heard her this morning!' _And_ she didn't show up at work. And then _he_ accuses _me_ of screwing around!"

"Take a deep breath," Vivian said soothingly.

Susanna drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Listen, forget him. You don't even like him, remember?" Vivian said.

For whatever reason, this seemed to resound throughout Susanna's mind. Exactly, she didn't even like him… right? So why should she care what he thinks?

"You're right, of course," Susanna said.

"Of course I am," Vivian said. "I gotta run, but I'll talk to you in the morning, alright?"

"Yeah, alright."

"Talk to you later."

"Bye, Viv." She hung up with a click.

"Don't even like him," she mumbled, as if trying to convince herself.

After a few minutes, she willed herself out of the tub and changed into some sweats. She killed a few hours by working on a column for the New York Times and reading a book.

It was eight o'clock and she sat in her living room, suddenly very aware of how empty her apartment was. She forgot for the moment the book she held in her hand as she looked around, the apartment dark and deathly silent. The enormous bay window behind her let in the twinkling, bright lights of the city, and the sounds of the cars and people down below. She set down her book and walked over to it, pulling aside the curtains and sitting on the window seat, her head resting against the pane. People still filled Park Avenue below her, just little specks from her height above them.

Wrenching her from her ponderings, the door rang, ringing harsh and shrill throughout the apartment.

"Coming!" she called, and pulled the curtains back over the windows.

She clicked on a few lights as she hurried to the door, and glanced quickly in the mirror. Her hair had air-dried to become thick and wavy, but it didn't look too bad, so she opened the door.

Keith stood on the other side, holding a bottle and a carton of ice cream. She smiled.

"Good evening," she said.

"Good evening," he replied, smiling as he passed a glance over her. He then seemed to remember the objects in his hands. "I have champagne and cookie dough ice cream."

"Both of which I adore," she said, her smile broader. "Come on in."

He crossed into the apartment and she closed the door behind him. She began to lead him toward the kitchen.

"I owe you an explanation," she said to him.

"No need. I've done my research," he replied.

She flicked the kitchen light on as she looked at him with surprise.

"Telera is a monarchy, with a second prince named Ryan," Keith said, placing the bottle and carton onto the counter.

Susanna chuckled as she began to look for bowls and glasses. "Impressive. Unfortunately, that prince is annoying as all hell and decided to come with me to New York," she said, trying to reach two champagne glasses at the very top of the cabinet. Keith came over and got them for her.

"Thank you," she murmured as he handed them to her. He smiled a little as they were awful close, but she took the glasses and turned to set them near the bottle. She rummaged in a drawer for a bottle opener.

"Allow me," he said, taking the opener from her and setting to work on the bottle. "So why did he follow you here?" he asked. "Is he in love with you?"

Susanna laughed. "Good heavens, no. No, apparently he came to 'find himself' or some such nonsense."

Keith smiled. "Why, what do you think his motives were then?"

"To get away from his mother," she said simply, as the cork popped and hit the fridge.

"Sorry," Keith said embarrassedly.

She just chuckled and picked it up. He poured them two glasses as she scooped some ice cream into bowls. He handed her a glass and she handed him a bowl.

"Cheers," he said with a smile.

"Cheers," she repeated, and they each took a sip.

Keith seemed to be thinking as Susanna began to eat her ice cream. She tried not to notice, but he finally picked up his bowl and began to eat his ice cream.

There were a few moments of odd yet contented silence when Keith finally said, "Actually, Susanna, I haven't stopped thinking about you all day."

Something jumped inside her, but it may have been the champagne. "Really?"

He moved closer. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since the moment I met you." And without much further ado, he kissed her. Shocked at first, she eventually gave into it as he deepened the kiss, pressing her against the counter. His arms wrapped around her waist as her hands became entangled in his hair, getting caught up in the moment.

He had left her mouth and was trailing his lips down her neck when out of nowhere the door rang. He grunted, and her arms fell to her sides.

"I should probably get that," she said. He sighed, but nodded as she smiled and gave his lips a quick kiss. She left the kitchen and headed to the door, straightening out her top. She smiled to herself as she ran a hand through her hair.

Opening the door, she nearly gasped to find Ryan on the other side. Instead of looking angry, however, he looked rather regretful.

"Susanna, can I talk to you?" he said. She nodded, but glancing into her apartment, she fought for a moment and then finally decided to join him outside. She closed the door behind her, looking at him expectantly.

"I was thinking about what you said as I left earlier, and you were right," he said.

"What?" she said, surprised.

"But I want you to believe me that nothing happened with Darcy," he said, looking square into her eyes. He was telling the truth.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I should've believed you before."

He nodded. "But it made me think, and if you like this Keith guy… I have no right to any say in the matter."

"Thank you," she said.

"So we're… we're okay?" he asked.

She smiled. "Yeah, we're okay."

"Good," he said. Then, he leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Susanna."

Surprised, she murmured, "Good night."

He stepped into the elevator and smiled at her until the doors shut.

She touched her cheek and thought, _Right… don't even like him._


	9. The Definition of Perfect

Chapter 9

Susanna clicked her tongue and walked back into her apartment. Shaking her head, she ran a hand through her hair and went back to Keith.

"Who was that?" he asked, immediately resuming kissing her neck.

She smiled, but hesitated. "Mrs. du Valliand," she finally answered.

He didn't seem to care as he went back to her lips. "I should get going," he murmured after a moment or two.

"Why?"

"I have to baby-sit my nephew tomorrow morning," he said, but showed not signs of stopping.

She smiled, and put her hand against his lips. He sighed.

"Then you should get some sleep," she said coyly, before kissing him lightly on the forehead. He merely rolled his eyes and pressed his lips against her fingers.

"Good night," he said.

"Good night," she replied, smiling at him.

He just chuckled a little, and then walked to the door, and was gone. She sighed, and put the bowls and glasses into the dishwasher. Flipping the kitchen light off, she went to her bedroom and changed into her pajamas. She then reached for the phone and dialed Vivian's number.

"Hello?" Vivian's perky voice came.

"Viv, have I got things to tell you."

* * *

Ryan went home with a goofy smile on his face. Everything was going brilliantly; the dinner last night had been an absolute success. Ryan hadn't hidden the truth about Darcy from anyone, and looking around the room last night, every single one of those prissy, uptight nobles was utterly and completely shocked. The prince, bringing a secretary to dinner! they would say. How horrific!

And soon the news would reach his mother in Telera, right where he wanted it to go. He was being a rebel and loving every moment of it.

Of course, Darcy was a lovely girl and he did have a good time with her… and she had been perfect! She hadn't known a thing about royalty or etiquette; the way she had eaten each course with the wrong fork was brilliant. She had received stares all evening… and to top it off, she didn't know how to ballroom dance!

Of course, he had told Susanna the truth, that he hadn't slept with Darcy. But why did he get so worked up when she didn't believe him? It wasn't like he particularly cared what she thought, anyway. She could be so infuriating… but then why did he kiss her on the cheek?

He made an irritated noise in his throat and slumped against the taxi cab's seat.

"Rough day?" the driver asked kindly.

Ryan chuckled. "Just a bit."

"Work?"

"Women," Ryan said flatly.

The driver laughed. "The worst kind of trouble, eh?"

"I had no idea."

"Yeah, they're a tough thing to pin down. Change their minds a lot, don't they?"

"One minute you think you're on their good side, and then suddenly they hate you!" Ryan said heatedly, more to himself than the driver.

The driver laughed again. "A vicious cycle. Here we are… what the blazes is going on?"

They had pulled up to the Plaza where there stood an enormous amount of photographers and burly security guards. Ryan caught a glimpse of the limo parked in front, and his stomach dropped.

He got out of the taxi carefully, and handed the money to the driver, thanking him. He then tried to walk through the mob, finally emerging in front of the stairs. He raised his eyes to the last thing he wanted to see.

"Hello, Ryan."

He took a breath. "Hello, Mother."

* * *

Monday morning, Susanna rolled out of bed at precisely seven o'clock. She smiled to herself as the sun shone through the curtains; September had come.

Fall was Susanna's favorite season, mostly because the fashion was so fabulous. She eagerly jumped out of bed and threw back the curtains. Opening the window, she took a deep breath. The air smelled of autumn.

She flicked on the TV to check the weather, and sure enough, as it always did in September, the temperature dropped and the forecast was calling for a breezy 55 degrees. After showering, she picked out with glee a brown corduroy jacket with a light white turtleneck and brown skirt. On her way out the door, she dug out a matching hat and she was set for fall.

Walking into the office, she gave a chirpy good morning to the staff, who stared at her as if she had gone insane.

"You feelin' alright, honey?" Tracy, Mr. Simmons' secretary, asked her.

"Just fine, thank you, Tracy," Susanna answered.

She turned the corner and was relieved to see a curly blonde head behind the desk.

"You are never allowed to not come to work again, Miss Clevell," Susanna said jokingly serious. "Your replacement was crap."

Darcy smiled. "I'm so sorry Miss Bennet, it's just that-"

Susanna waved her apology away. "Don't. It's fine. Just get me some coffee and consider it forgotten."

Darcy smiled and scurried away. Susanna looked back down the hall, where the entire staff stood, staring at her with their jaws dropped.

"What?" she said indignantly.

"You sure you're alright?" asked Sally, the advertisement woman.

"I'm fine, why?"

"Well, you said good morning to Annie, Susanna."

"So?" Susanna said, noticing Annie cowering in the corner.

"Well, usually you just tell her she looks like dead pig on crack with a face and wardrobe that not even her mother could be proud of."

There was a silence. Susanna suddenly took off her hat and felt her head. "Good Lord!" she cried. "I was pleasant and friendly! What's wrong with me?"

She threw open her office doors and went in, tossing her briefcase aside and sinking onto the couch, closing her eyes. The door opened slowly and Darcy crept in and bent down.

"Coffee?" she asked softly.

Susanna opened her eyes and took the cup gratefully. "Darcy?" she asked. "Do I seem… out of character this morning?"

Darcy bit her lip. "A bit, yes."

Susanna sighed and took a sip of her coffee, deciding to change the subject. "How was the dinner?"

Darcy's face fell, but she immediately tried to mask it. "Fine."

"Pff," Susanna made a disdainful noise. "Please, no dinner with Teleran nobles is ever _fine. _They're boring, dull, and completely inane."

Darcy gave a small smile. "I don't think they liked me very much," she said quietly.

"Of course not," Susanna said. "They don't like _me_, and I grew up in Telera as a noble." But then she noticed Darcy's heartbroken face. "They don't like anything… different, that's all. You weren't what they were expecting. Don't be concerned about it."

Darcy smiled. "Thank you, Miss Bennet."

Susanna nodded, and Darcy stood up and went back to her desk.

Susanna worked steadily until lunch, at which time she put back on her jacket and headed to the door. Instead of just Darcy at the desk, however, there were two other girls. Darcy seemed to be trying to get them to go away, but to no avail.

"Is that your _boss_, Cinder?" one girl asked haughtily, passing a glance over Susanna. The two girls couldn't be more different; one was tall, svelte, and blonde, and the other was short, hefty, and brunette. They both, however, had a look of scorn and arrogance on their heavily made-up faces, decked out in somewhat trashy designer clothes.

"Yes," Darcy said quietly. "Miss Bennet, I'd… like to introduce my stepsisters, Briana and Iriana."

"Nice to meet you," Susanna said in her best fake voice.

The two girls did not respond in kind, but instead cracked their chewing gum and raised their thickly drawn eyebrows. They turned their attention back to Darcy.

"My laundry had better be in my room by five o'clock, I've got a date," the tall one said to her.

"Mine, too," the short one squeaked, but the tall one just rolled her eyes and pushed the short one down the hall.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Bennet, I didn't know they were coming," Darcy said.

Susanna just shrugged. "It's fine… why do they call you Cinder, if I may ask?" she asked.

Darcy blushed and looked down. "No, it's fine, it's just… it's a long story."

"I have a long lunch," Susanna said.

"Well, my room in their house had a fireplace but it got clogged all the time and cinders would blow all over my room, usually on me since I sometimes fell asleep reading in front of the fire," Darcy explained, her eyes still on the floor.

"How old are you, Darcy?" Susanna asked.

"Twenty-three. My birthday is in October."

Susanna nodded. "I'll be back in an hour."

"Have a good lunch, Miss Bennet."

_Cinder…_ Susanna thought as she walked away. _Oh the irony of it all._

* * *

"What on _earth_ did you think you were doing?!"

Ryan was sitting in the presidential suite of the Plaza the morning after his mother's arrival, trying to bear her wrath. She was livid; her upper lip was quivering, she was so angry. Apparently, news of Darcy had reached her faster than he had thought, and apparently, it was enough to make her fly to New York as soon as possible.

"A properly brought up _prince_ of Telera does not go around gallivanting with a _secretary_! A _secretary_, for heaven's sake, Ryan!" she railed on. "The consequences of you actions are not only embarrassing to me, but to the entire country! How dare you do this to me! Do have any idea of the work that I will have to do to clear this up? Your brother, of course, will have to come home early from his honeymoon to help me. I'm ashamed of you! To not think of your duties, or myself-"

He couldn't stand it any longer. "Think of you?! Has it not occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, I have feelings for this girl? Dammit, Mother, we don't live in the damn 16th century! Why should I think of you, or my _duties_? Don't you get it? I came here to get away from you and my fucking duties! And if I want to ask a _girl_ out, whether she be a duchess or a secretary, it's my business!"

But his mother was not to be swayed. "I do not care if you came here to get away from me, Ryan, you are still a representative of Telera while you are here! It is not proper-"

"Who the hell cares if it's proper! I refuse to be restricted from who I want to see just because it isn't _proper_! And if you can't live with that, then let me be!" he yelled, and then stormed out of the room without a look back.

Once to his room, he let out a breath and tried to relax his tense muscles. Before he could wrap his mind around what just happened, his cell phone rang.

"What?" he said irritably.

"Say something that'll make me angry." It was Susanna.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"Alright. My _mother_ is here and has just yelled at me for not respecting my duties because I took Darcy to dinner."

"What? What the hell does she think this is, 1512?" she said angrily.

"I know," he said, walking to the balcony to get some fresh air. "But I yelled back at her."

"Uh-oh."

He sighed. "Bad idea?"

"Really bad. The whole time I was convincing my parents to let me come here, I always restrained myself from yelling."

He grunted. "How do I tell Darcy?"

"Tell her what?"

"That I can't see her anymore."

"What?" she screeched, and he had to jerk the phone away from his ear. "Oh no, you're not giving in that easily."

"What can I do? She'll disown me."

"You have to stand up to her, gain her respect. It's what I had to do."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The worst thing to do is back down, they'll walk all over you."

Her words knocked some sense into him. She was right, he couldn't give in now.

"You're right."

"Of course I am," she said, and he could tell she was smiling.

"I'm going to call Darcy, ask her out tonight."

"Exactly."

"I am not going to be defeated," he said with confidence.

"Of course you aren't."

"I can do this."

"Of course you can."

He stood up straight, nodding to himself. "Thank you, Susanna."

"You do realize that we are now comrades," she said, a sound of laughter in her voice.

"What?"

"You are the only other person I have ever known to stand up to a Teleran authority figure. We now share a bond."

He laughed. "Alright, then. Wish me luck, comrade."

"Good luck," she said in a mock military-esque voice.

He chuckled and hung up. Well, this was it. He was going to stand up to his mother, the queen of Telera… but only one thought ran through his mind.

He was dead meat.

* * *

Ryan's words had successfully re-ignited Susanna's usual cynical demeanor. How dare the queen just parade over here to tell Ryan what to do? It was not only unfair, it was tyrannical!

"Down with the monarchy, up with the republic!" she suddenly chanted.

"Here, here!" a questionable group of men said near her.

She slapped a hand to her head. She had given plenty of people many reasons to lock her in an insane asylum today. She threw out her trash and walked the short distance back to the office.

"Miss Bennet!" Darcy chirped up as she returned. "Ryan just called and asked me to dinner again! It must not have gone as badly as I thought!"

Susanna noticed the others in the office whispering. Her brief friendliness from the morning passed as swiftly as it had come, and she gave a small smile.

"Good. Send those Gucci files into my office when they come," she said to Darcy, whose face fell a little, but she nodded. Susanna went into her office and sunk into her chair.

She didn't mean to hurt Darcy's feelings, but the relationship between a boss and an employee should only be business, right? It was already weird that Darcy was going out with Ryan, but she decided then and there that it wasn't going to interfere with work.

_Oh face it_, she thought. _You're jealous. Keith hasn't called… you haven't seen him since Saturday. _

Susanna sighed and let her head fall to meet the desk. It was true, Keith hadn't called… but why? He was the one to make the first move, so why should she be the one to call?

And what about that conversation with Ryan? Comrades? Where the hell had that come from? Of course, it was true that he was the only other one she knew that had stood up against the restrictions of Teleran society. But when had they gotten all buddy-buddy? Why had she called him in the first place?

"Too many questions," she muttered.

"I'm sorry?"

Her head flew up to find Keith standing at the door, a single rose in his hand.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "It's been a… strange morning."

He smiled as she stood up and walked around her desk. He closed the door behind him and then, as if like lightning, he pulled her toward him and into a deep kiss.

"What's that for?" she questioned.

"First, I'm sorry I haven't called," he said, presenting her with the rose. She took it with a smile. "Second, I got a job with the Metropolitan and want to take you out for a victory dinner."

She smiled and hugged him. "Congratulations."

"Thank you. So?"

"What time?" was all she asked.

* * *

Susanna spent an abnormal amount of time getting dressed for dinner with Keith. According to him, he was taking her to a very fancy restaurant and she should look her best. She finally decided on halter, somewhat low cut red dress that showed just enough but not too much leg. She swept her hair up, leaving just a few strands to frame her face, and placed a necklace around her neck from which dangled a long drop of silver that just hit the curve of her bosom.

At exactly half past seven, her door rang. Keith was looking awfully handsome in black slacks, a white shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to see a bit of chest and a black blazer. His mouth nearly dropped open when she answered the door.

"You look beautiful," he said finally, and she laughed a little at him.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded, and they left the building. They took a taxi that snaked through the crowded streets, even on a Monday night. It stopped in front of a beautiful marble building, whose gilded white steps led to a pair of gorgeous oak doors.

"Is this it?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," he said, smiling at her amazement.

They walked up the steps and were escorted inside by a man in a smart-looking tuxedo. They were led through two glass doors and into a very beautiful room where people sat at white tables lit by candlelight, all dressed in their finest evening wear. While Keith talked to the maitre'd, Susanna passed her gaze over the large room. An oak dance floor stood in the middle, on which sat a piano playing a graceful tune. There were two levels, the second being just a step or two higher than the first. Some tables were enclosed in gossamer curtains, and some were long and held at least a dozen people. Suddenly, Keith took her hand and beckoned for her to follow. She trotted behind him as they were led to the second tier, their round table placed against the railing looking down at the floor below.

"It's lovely," Susanna commented. Keith smiled and handed her a menu. She took it gladly, trying to hide the fact that her stomach was growling. Opening it, however, she was shocked to see no more than five items on the elaborate, fanciful menu.

"This isn't just the appetizers by any chance, is it?" she asked hopefully. Keith had the same look on his face that she imagined to be on hers, but he only shrugged.

"We'll stop for burgers later," he whispered.

She smiled and figured it would do for now.

* * *

Ryan picked Darcy up at quarter to eight, and she arrived at her door in a lovely black dress. He was taking her to a new fancy restaurant he had heard of uptown. He smiled; Susanna would be proud.

They arrived by taxi at the restaurant, which was a gorgeous marble building, with golden-lined white steps and grand oak doors. Darcy's mouth hung open as she stepped out of the cab. Ryan smiled at her, and she smiled back. It seemed his smile could ease any of her fears.

They were led to a pair of glass doors where Ryan gave the maitre'd his name. They were led immediately to a table on the first level of the enormous room, right next to the oak dance floor. The tables were all rather close together, but Ryan sat Darcy in her chair and then eagerly opened the menu. His stomach dropped. Of course, like all of these identical fancy restaurants, there was next to nothing on the menu.

"I'm just going to visit the restroom for a minute," Darcy said. He smiled at her, and she walked away, for a moment lost but then claimed by a friendly waiter. Ryan forgot the lacking menu as he passed a glance over the room.

Suddenly, he gasped. Susanna! His menu flew up to cover his face. Wait, this was stupid. He had no reason to hide from her. He slowly lowered the menu so just his eyes could see over the top. Keith. Of course. He quickly suppressed his unreasonable anger, though. She was right, he had absolutely no cause to not like whom she chose to date.

But him? She was smiling, lit up by the soft candlelight. She looked stunning in a low-cut red dress, her eyes dancing with laughter. He hit himself with the menu… this was no time to be _physically_ attracted to Susanna. He was here with Darcy, to stand up to his mother! But then again, Susanna was very beautiful. But that was just it… she was perfect, too perfect. She was a Teleran noble, she was beautiful, and would make a perfect princess. Just what his mother would want.

Susanna didn't notice him as he sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. No, it was Darcy who was perfect. She was innocent, a lowly secretary, and, if he had any luck, not wealthy. She was making her way back to him, knocking over a tray of water glasses as she went. He chuckled, and put a smile on his face as she sat down. She awkwardly tried to undo the fancy napkin, successfully sending her fork clattering to the floor. Ryan laughed and helped her with the napkin, and then beckoned to a waiter to get another fork.

Darcy, however, wasn't laughing. In fact, she nearly had tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," she said, her voice shaking a little. "I just… don't feel like I belong here you know?"

"Look, fancy restaurants like this can be intimidating, you just-"

But she was shaking her head. "It's not just the restaurant. I just don't feel like I should… be with you. You're a prince, Ryan, a _prince_! I barely know what that means!"

He took her hand and tried to comfort her. "Don't think of me as a prince," he said softly. "Just think of me as a man that you met, and, hopefully, that you like."

She looked at him, her eyes reassured. She nodded. "I'm sorry. I was being silly."

He smiled. "Now, let's see… I'm thinking, maybe, if we order everything on the menu about three times we may hold over until we can leave."

* * *

Susanna and Keith had ordered, trying to discreetly order more than one thing. The waiter finally became suspicious, and they surrendered their menus.

"I'm just going to visit the restroom, do you mind?" Keith asked.

She shook her head and he left. She contented herself for a moment or two by passing her finger through the flame of the candle, but the waiter glared at her so intensely that she dropped her hand to her lap. She looked over the room, until her eyes fell on… Ryan?

Panicked, she flew down and hid herself behind the table, pretending to fix something on her shoe. Wait a second… why was she hiding? She had no reason to hide from Ryan and Darcy… except that it would be really awkward if they met. Ryan seemed to be having a great time; he was laughing and smiling, holding Darcy's hand. Susanna made a sound in her throat. She didn't want to admit it, but she had been somewhat hoping that Ryan really wasn't having a good time with Darcy. Why couldn't he have that much fun with her? They certainly had more in common than Ryan and Darcy. What did they talk about? Fax machines?

_I am a terrible person_, she thought. _I was actually hoping that Ryan was using her! _She forgot about her shoe for a moment and just hung there, looking crooked and probably pretty stupid. He, however, looked incredibly handsome in a light blue shirt, his eyes lit up with laughter. Why couldn't he look like that when he was with her?

_Oh, right. I forgot. _She was _Teleran_. And a noble. And perfect, as far as his mother probably thought. But Darcy… Darcy was everything that Susanna was not. She was innocent, and awkward, and improper. She was almost always happy, plus she was definitely not wealthy. She was the perfect tool for standing up to his mother.

"Susanna?"

Susanna started and subsequently hit her head against the table. Holding it to suppress the pounding she emerged from below the table to find Keith looking at her with an expression of perplexity and humor on his face.

"My… shoe," she just said.

He smiled. "Come on, let's dance." He held his hand out. She sneaked a quick glance to Ryan and Darcy, who sat right next to the dance floor.

She took a breath and said, "Alright."

They walked to the other side of the room and down the steps to the floor, where a few couples were dancing slowly to the soft piano. Keith drew Susanna in close, and she rested her head against his shoulder. The other dancers blocked them from Ryan's view, but a knot grew in Susanna's stomach all the same. Keith was brushing kisses against her bare shoulders, and she smiled and instinctively let her nails softly caress the nape of his neck. Suddenly she saw Ryan and Darcy stand up and make their way over to them. Susanna's shoulders fell a little, but she placed a small smile on her face as they neared.

"What a coincidence," Ryan said. "Keith," he said, nodding to Keith who had let Susanna go for the moment. He nodded shortly back.

"Oh, Keith, this is my… secretary, Darcy Clevell," Susanna said. Keith and Darcy shook hands, and an odd look passed between them. Susanna raised an eyebrow to Ryan, who only gave her a silencing look. The two pairs began to dance again, until Keith's beeper vibrated against both their waists. He looked at it quickly and gasped.

"My brother," he said. "His wife's pregnant and she's in labor. Susanna…" he bit his lip.

"Go," she said simply. He gave her grateful look, and passing a quick glance to Ryan, placed a passionate kiss on her lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, and then quickly made his way out.

"I'm just going to run to the restroom," Darcy said at just that moment. Ryan looked confused, but nodded and she left as well.

"Just one dance?" he asked Susanna.

"Might as well," she replied, and took his hand. They danced in silence, cheek to cheek, and a million thoughts raced through Susanna's head. The tension was thick, but neither gave any impression that they noticed it. The song ended, and soft applause rippled throughout the room. Susanna took a small step back.

"I should probably leave," she nearly whispered, trying to avoid his eyes.

He took a step toward her and said, "Susanna-"

"Ryan?"

Darcy stood behind them, and Susanna took a larger step back this time.

"I'm going to get going," she said. "See you tomorrow, Darcy."

"Good night, Miss Bennet," Darcy replied.

"Good night, Ryan," Susanna said to him. He was looking at her with mingled expression, one which she did not care to understand at the moment. He only nodded, and then turned back around to Darcy.

Susanna walked out of the restaurant, holding her temples. When she got outside, it was pouring rain. She laughed sarcastically.

"Perfect," she murmured.

"A cab, miss?" the man in the tuxedo said.

She shook her head. "No, thank you." And with that, she walked down the steps and went home in the rain.


	10. Everything Comes Back to Susanna

Chapter 10

Walking home in the rain, it seemed, had done nothing but cause Susanna to come down with an incredibly miserable cold. She lay in bed, being able to do nothing but blow her nose, cough, and laugh at daytime soap operas. She had dragged herself to the doctor, and had had to tell Vivian to call her every day to remind her take her medicine.

Keith had had to leave for Los Angeles to get the rest of his things, since he had just found an apartment and was set to move in a week. Darcy had called with what seemed like thousands of messages, but Susanna barely heard them through the barricade of phlegm in her ear.

It was her third day of misery, but the hazy fog over her mind was thinning quite dramatically. The phone rang, and grumbling, she fumbled to pick it up.

"Hello?" she croaked, her voice raspy and hoarse.

"Susanna, how are you?"

Susanna bolted upright, causing the pain in her head to surge into throbbing.

"Your majesty?" she said, trying to subtly clear her throat.

"Nonsense, Susanna, call me Lorraine," the queen said, speaking calmly. Susanna, on the other hand, was reeling.

"I say, are you alright, Susanna? You sound ill," the queen asked.

"Well, actually, I am rather sick with a cold," Susanna explained.

"Oh, that is such a shame. I'm in town and wanted to have lunch, but you had better stay in bed."

"Why are you in New York?" Susanna asked carefully.

There was a pause. "I wanted to visit my son, make sure he is doing well," she answered, her voice equally careful.

Susanna, however sick she was, was still not foolish enough to believe that. The queen was here to reprimand Ryan for going out with Darcy, Susanna was sure of it. She hoped that the queen didn't blame her; Susanna's mother might have a heart attack.

"He seems to be doing fine," Susanna said, deliberately avoiding the Darcy subject.

"Yes."

"How long will you be in town?"

"Just until tomorrow. I am very sorry I will not be able to see you."

"Yes, I am, too," Susanna said, biting her lip.

"Perhaps I will see you in Telera soon?" the queen asked.

"Yes, perhaps," Susanna lied expertly.

"Good to talk to you, Susanna. I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Susanna hung up with a click and rested her head against the headboard. Ah, how good Telerans were at being in denial. Feeling a little better, and now thinking of Darcy, Susanna dialed the number for Darcy's desk.

The phone, however, rang and rang and yet no one picked up. Confused, she hung up and looked at the clock. 1:30 PM, it flashed. Darcy should still be at her desk; she never left until four.

Susanna called the number for Mr. Simmons' secretary, Tracy. She picked up right away.

"Hey, Tracy, it's Susanna."

"Susanna, baby, how you feelin' girl?" Tracy said in her warm voice.

"Better, actually. Listen, do you know where Darcy is? She's not at her desk."

"She left early this morning with some hunk," Tracy said.

Susanna's mouth fell open. "She _left_?" she repeated, astounded.

"Yeah," Tracy replied. "I thought you had that girl under control," she said, her voice half joking and half serious.

"I thought I did, too," Susanna said, a little angry. How _dare_ Darcy just take off like that! Without even bothering to call and ask! _Ryan…_ she thought.

"Mr. Simmons wants to talk to you. I'll put you through," Tracy said.

"Thanks," Susanna said, still dazed.

There were a few moments pause, and then Mr. Simmons' voice came through the receiver.

"Susanna, how are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," she said. "A lot better," she amended, thinking on it.

"Good. I'm glad you called, because I want you to go to London on Friday," he said. "New Armani show, I want you to be there."

Susanna sighed, but said, "Alright."

"Be back by Monday. And Susanna?"

"Yes, Mr. Simmons?"

"You may want to talk with your secretary."

Susanna growled. "I'll be in the office tomorrow."

"Great. See you tomorrow, then."

"Bye."

She hung up again and got out of bed. Her head had somehow magically cleared, maybe because of her fuming anger. She took off her clothes and got into the shower, where she stayed for a long time. Finally getting out, she pulled on some jeans and a turtleneck.

Her door rang, and she made her way down the steps slowly, still feeling a little weak. She opened the door to a smiling Vivian.

"Hey, you're up!" Vivian said, letting herself in. "How do you feel?"

"Better," Susanna said.

Vivian held up the paper bag she was holding. "Potato soup, your favorite," she said as she walked to the kitchen. This sparked Susanna's interest and she followed her friend.

"You know, Suzy, I've been thinking," Vivian began as she unloaded the bag. She was carefully avoiding Susanna's eyes. Susanna sunk onto a stool and waited for what was coming. "I know you may get mad, but this whole Ryan and Darcy thing… it makes sense," she said, as if she had rehearsed it. Susanna was suspicious that she had.

"What?" Susanna said, surprised.

"Think about it. It's perfect. A prince falling in love with an assistant. It's so romantic, don't you think?" Vivian said, putting the soup in front of Susanna.

Susanna just grunted in reply.

"I mean, even if he fell in love with… you, for example, it just wouldn't be that exciting, you know?" Vivian went on.

The words made sense, but Susanna was still too angry to properly digest them. All she said was, "Yes, but why _my_ assistant?"

Vivian just smiled and sat down across from her. They ate in silence, the only sound coming from the city outside.

"I'm going to London on Friday," Susanna said finally.

"Oo!" Vivian squealed. "Where are you staying this time? That fabulous hotel that you were at last time?"

Susanna shrugged. "I may just stay at my cousin's place." Her cousin Adrienne, was about the same age as she and had lived in London for years.

"The one who lives by the palace?" Vivian nearly shrieked.

"Yeah. I'll call her later, she never really cares. Besides, she's hardly ever home." Adrienne was one of the few Teleran ambassadors, and usually was gone all day and night, for whatever reason. It would be a nice break to stay at her place instead of the fancy hotels Susanna was always staying at.

"Well, I've got to get going," Vivian said. "If I don't see before you leave, have fun in London and I'll see you when you get back," she said, standing up. Susanna followed her to the door.

"And Suzy?" Vivian said, pausing with the door open. "Think about what I said, alright?" she said, her freckled nose scrunching the way it did when she was serious.

Susanna sighed. "Yeah, alright."

Vivian gave a small smile, and then left.

Susanna spent the rest of the day cleaning her apartment, opening the windows to let in some fresh air and get the germy stuff out.

* * *

The next day she woke up early and got ready quickly. She got dressed in her nicest jeans, a white lacy top, her leather jacket and black stiletto heels. Her hair lay thick and wavy down past her shoulders, and she tried to absorb herself in putting on her makeup so she wouldn't think about what she should say to Darcy.

She left for the office at a quarter past seven, more than an hour earlier than usual. She took the subway and stopped for a quick bagel and coffee, carrying the latte into the building with her. It was so early that she had to use her employee card to get in the door, sliding it in the little machine. It took many tries because she was so unused to it, and people chuckled at her as she fumed at the machine.

Once inside, the store was dark and deathly quiet. She picked her way to the elevators, and went up to her floor.

She was amazed to find that she was the first person there. She flicked on the lights and went to her office, unnerved by the complete silence of the place. She left the door to her office open and turned on the light. Opening the curtains to her window, she sat down at her desk and felt a rare stream of nervousness come through her.

She had never had to really yell at anyone before. She didn't want Darcy to hate her, but she didn't want her to think that she could just get away with anything she wanted, either.

She really wanted to blame Ryan for this, but something told her that this must have been a decision that Darcy consciously made. She sighed and put her head down on the desk, reaching over to turn her computer on. Being sick hadn't delayed her deadline for an article she was writing for The New Yorker, so she managed to pull her head back up.

But she couldn't concentrate. Vivian's words kept flickering through her mind… _even if he fell in love with… you, for example, it just wouldn't be that exciting._ She leaned back in her chair, the morning sun warm on her face. Of course, she was probably right, but Susanna didn't want to admit it. She knew she probably was just being stubborn, but something inside her was kind of disappointed at being called unexciting.

She shook her head. "Snap out of it," she muttered to herself. Bringing herself back to the screen, she continued to type.

The morning went on as people trickled into the office. Everyone stopped to say good morning to Susanna, and ask her how she felt. She replied politely to everyone, but she knew what they were all thinking – _Where the hell is your secretary?_

Finally, at nine o'clock, Susanna picked up the phone and called Ryan.

"Hello?"

"Where's Darcy?" she asked, trying not to sound too harsh.

"Susanna?... I don't know I haven't talked to her. Why, isn't she at work?"

She sighed, but could tell he was telling the truth. "No, she's not. If you hear from her, will you call me please?"

"Of course."

She paused. "Your mother called me yesterday."

"Oh, God, she didn't," he moaned.

"Oh yes, she did. She said she was just in town to… what was it? Oh right, to 'visit my son and make sure he's doing well.'"

"Bullshit, she came to yell at me," he grumbled.

"Aw, what did ickle Ryan do wrong?" she said with a laugh.

"I think you know just as well as I do."

She sighed. "Yeah, I do."

"Speaking of which, I have to go say good riddance… I mean goodbye, to her. But I'll call you if I hear from Darcy."

"Thanks."

"Bye, Susanna."

"Bye." She hung up. Sending her article to The New Yorker, she got up and walked to Mr. Simmons' office.

"Morning, Tracy," she said, her voice dull.

Tracy smiled. She was a tall black woman, in her mid-30s, with the curliest hair and the biggest smile you'd ever seen. "Morning, Susanna."

"Is Mr. Simmons in?"

"Yeah, go right ahead."

"Thanks." Susanna knocked lightly before letting herself into his office. It was an enormous office with a huge open window that let in the sun. Her heels clacked against the hardwood floor as she walked to his vast mahogany desk. He smiled at her as she sat in one of the oversized leather chairs.

"Mr. Simmons, I have a problem," she began. No point in beating around the bush.

He nodded knowingly. "Tell me about it."

"Darcy suddenly seems to think that it's okay to not come to work, not call, not leave any notion as to where she is. Is there a thin line between being too firm and too friendly?" she asked.

He smiled. "Yes, a very thin line." He paused. "I know Darcy is seeing this… prince of yours, and I'm sensing that's the cause of your trouble, right?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But I really don't think it's his fault, at least not directly. I just don't know what to do. Do I yell at her? Do I let her get away with it?"

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Neither. You sit her down, and you tell her exactly what you expect from her as an employee. And if she can't fulfill those expectations, you have to let her go."

Susanna sunk into the chair. He was right, that was exactly was she was going to have to do. She put a hand to her head.

"You're right. Thanks, Mr. Simmons," she said, giving him a grateful smile. He returned it as she stood to leave.

"I made you head of fashion for a reason, Susanna," he said. She nodded, and then left the office.

Walking back to her own office, she thought about what she should say to Darcy. _What you expect from her as an employee_…

She sat back down in her chair and instead of pondering her speech some more, she called her cousin. Not at all surprisingly, Adrienne wasn't home and Susanna left a message. She was sure it would be fine with her if Susanna stayed the weekend, so she didn't worry about it.

As she hung up, she looked up to see Darcy walking down the hall. Her hair, for the first time, was down and fell to her shoulders. She wore a rather fabulous getup of Gucci attire, complete with a white leather skirt and black pumps. She didn't even so much glance at Susanna as she sat down at her desk.

Locking her jaw, and her anger returning, Susanna called out, very clearly, "Darcy, come into my office."

Darcy left her desk and stood at the door, her expression one of defiance bordering on nervousness.

"Come in," Susanna said icily. Darcy began to walk in.

"Close the door," Susanna ordered.

Biting her lip, Darcy closed the door. She walked in and sat in a chair in front of Susanna's desk. Susanna walked around and sat on the edge of the desk.

"I think it's time we had a little talk, Darcy," Susanna began. Darcy just raised her eyebrows.

"I know that you are going out with Ryan, and I'm fine with that. But when you show up late for work, or do not show up at all, I'm going to have to stop being an acquaintance and start being your boss. You are my assistant, Darcy, _my_ employee, and I expect you to be here on time, perform your duties, and leave when I allow it. If you cannot fulfill these requirements, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Do I make myself clear?" she said in her clearest, strongest voice.

Darcy lowered her eyes, and said, "Yes."

"Good. You may leave now."

Darcy stood and left the office. Susanna sighed, and after a moment went back to sit in her chair. Picking up the phone, she went to dial Vivian's number but stopped when she heard a voice already on the phone.

"Please, you can't call me here, I'm in enough trouble as it is," Darcy's shaking voice was saying.

"Good, you don't deserve to work there anyway," a frosty female voice said.

"Stepmother…"

"You will be here at exactly half past four. Briana and Iriana's dresses are not going alter themselves. And remember to get the dry cleaning. And once your done, clean the hallway floors," the unkind voice went on.

"Where are they going tonight?" Darcy asked, her voice nervous.

"A party for the prince of Telera. If you're lucky, one of them will strike his fancy. Then you could be a servant at the palace, as you are so worthless here."

"Yes, Stepmother."

"_Half past four_." Then there was a click, and Darcy hung up as well. Susanna hurriedly put the phone down, and as soon as she had done so, the door flew open.

"Miss Bennet, I want to apologize for everything. I've not been myself these past few days, but I really need your help," she gushed, tears in her eyes.

Susanna stood and gestured to the chairs. Darcy fell into one of them, beginning to cry. Susanna bit her lip; she was terrible with crying people.

"My stepsisters you met the other day? They're going to this dinner tonight at the Waldorf Astoria, and Ryan will be there and I'm supposed to go with him, but they don't know that we're going out because I never told them because they'd…well, they wouldn't understand and now my stepmother wants me to be home to fix their dresses but I'm supposed to be going to get my own dress and now I'll have to tell Ryan that I can't go and…" she finally just burst into tears and put her head in her hands.

Susanna thought quickly. "Well, has your stepfamily ever seen you in a fancy gown?"

Darcy looked up, not understanding. "No."

"Or with your hair done?"

"No."

"Or with makeup on?"

"No."

"So would they recognize you?"

Darcy thought about this. "I guess not."

"Then don't worry about it," Susanna said. "Ryan will understand, I'm sure," she said, not even quite believing herself. A little voice in her head told her that Darcy was pretty much screwed.

Darcy took a deep breath, her tears ceasing. "I guess I could do that. Thank you, Miss Bennet."

Susanna just nodded. Darcy stood and went back to her desk. Susanna sighed; she felt sorry for Darcy. It was quite a predicament. She had half a mind to call Ryan and tell him, but that would be intruding, she decided.

* * *

Susanna went home around three to pack for London. She reassured Darcy that everything would fine, but Darcy still didn't look like she believed her.

Once home, she dragged out her enormous luggage and began to throw things in. She wanted to call Vivian, but she knew it would be too distracting. She got out her well-used passport and put it with her wallet.

The phone rang around five. It was Adrienne, who called to say it was fine for Susanna to stay at her place, but that she probably wouldn't even be home. Susanna didn't mind; she hadn't really expected her busy cousin to stick around just because she was there.

At quarter after five, Susanna finally sat down, her suitcases filled. She thought of Darcy, and wondered what she had decided. The party probably didn't start until seven – Susanna was often invited to these affairs but threw the invitations out as soon as she received them. People often dressed in their finest, and Susanna wondered if Darcy would even be able to get a dress if she wanted to go.

At quarter to six, Susanna sat down to a healthy meal of Chinese takeout. She had barely touched her mooshu pork, however, when the phone rang again.

"Why isn't Darcy coming to the party?" It was Ryan, and he sounded very angry.

"She's not?" Susanna said, somewhat disappointed.

"No, she's not. Can you happen to tell my why, Miss Advice-For-Everyone?"

"Hey, I told her _to_ go," Susanna protested.

"Then why isn't she?"

Susanna bit her lip. "I think she's the one to tell you that, not me."

"Susanna…"

"No, I'm not saying a word. I refuse to get involved with this," she said strongly.

She heard him sigh. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I just really want her to come."

A thought flickered into Susanna's mind. "Yeah, I understand," she said quickly. "I gotta run, talk to you later."

"Sus-" But she hung up. Abandoning her pork and rice, she hurried to her room and into her closet. In a corner were neatly hung a bevy of evening gowns. Without thinking, she swiftly picked a light blue one with a low back and intricate beading. Zipping it into a plastic cover, she grabbed a pair of shoes, took it in her arms and went out the door.

Her doorman called a taxi for her, and she carefully put the dress inside. She told the cabbie to go down a few blocks to Lexington – not far, but she didn't exactly want to walk with an evening gown and shoes over her shoulder.

She paid the cabbie a few bucks and got out. She walked to a blue awning that said _Lexington Apartments_. She vaguely remembered that this was where Darcy lived, only because she had had to drop her off once when she got sick at work. She was peering at the buttons for Darcy's apartment when the door opened and out came none other than Darcy's stepsisters. They were dressed in flamboyant, rather garish gowns in pink and green. Susanna nearly vomited at the sight. Behind them walked a tall, thin woman dressed in a sleek, but boring, black gown. Her black hair was streaked with gray, but Susanna found she couldn't stop staring at her large, crooked nose. It only served to amplify the look of disdain on the woman's face as she ordered her daughters into the limousine parked in the street. Susanna quickly grabbed the door before it shut, and hurried inside.

The opulent lobby was richly decorated with dark wood and golden furniture. Susanna's footsteps echoed on the marble floor as she made her way to the elevators.

A replicate of the buttons outside was next to the elevators, and Susanna ran her finger down the list. Vagarte/Clevell, Penthouse. Penthouse? Nice, Susanna thought. She got into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. It rose for what seemed like forever until it stopped and the doors opened into a lobby not unlike her own.

She knocked on the door, and for the first time, she thought about what she was doing. Why on Earth was she doing this? She felt bad for Darcy, sure, but that was no reason to go all fairy godmother. She chuckled ironically at her choice of shoes – stilettos with a clear cover, so that it looked like glass.

The door opened slowly as Darcy's head peered from the side. Susanna cocked her head so that Darcy could see her.

"Miss Bennet?" Darcy said, in shock. Her eyes were red and she quickly dried them. She wore a faded pair of jeans and an old shirt.

"Ryan said you weren't going to go," Susanna said.

Darcy's shoulders fell. "No, I'm not."

Susanna clicked her tongue reproachfully. "Well, they're gone, so let's get started," she said, coming in.

Darcy made some stunned noises, as if not sure what to say. Susanna was looking around the luridly decorated apartment, which somewhat resembled the gowns the girls had been wearing. Susanna walked up the stairs, beckoning for the dazed Darcy to follow.

Hunting around, Susanna found the master bedroom, which she could only assume was the stepmother's. She walked in and put the gown on the bed, but Darcy faltered by the door.

"What's wrong?" Susanna asked.

"I'm not supposed to come in here," Darcy said quietly, as if her stepmother would hear.

"Oh come on, she's long gone by now," Susanna said, pulling Darcy into the room. She took out the dress and laid it in Darcy's arms.

"Go put it on," she ordered, and Darcy, her mouth hanging open, nodded and went to the bathroom.

Susanna sat on the huge, gilded bed and waited for Darcy. The carpet was a pristine white, and an enormous bay window looked out to the busy street below. It smelled heavily of designer perfume, almost to the point of making Susanna nauseate.

Darcy came out of the bathroom, biting her lip. She looked lovely in the blue dress, but her face was shy and bashful.

"Perfect," Susanna said, standing. She walked over and joined her in the bathroom, searching for makeup.

"Sit," Susanna said, and Darcy sat down on a stool. Susanna looked her over, and then began to apply the makeup as fast as possible. She turned Darcy to the mirror and began to work on her hair. Although curly, Darcy's hair wasn't all that thick and was easily brushed and swept up into twist. Staring into the mirror, Darcy was nearly ogling herself.

"Come on, time to go," Susanna said, getting her to stand. She gave Darcy the shoes and they went downstairs.

"Trust me, you look like a completely different person," Susanna said, and meant it. Darcy looked totally different, and Susanna was rather proud of herself.

They left the apartment and went downstairs, where Susanna got a cab for Darcy.

"How will I ever thank you?" Darcy burbled.

Susanna smiled. "Don't. I would tell you to be home by midnight, but just be home before your stepfamily leaves, alright?"

Darcy smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Miss Bennet."

"I almost wish I was going," Susanna said.

Darcy laughed, and got into the cab. She waved to Susanna as the cab pulled away, and Susanna waved after her.

The sad part was, Susanna thought as she turned to go home, she _did_ almost wish she was going.

* * *

Ryan paced the floor at the party, hating himself for being there. The crowded ballroom was packed with people who kept coming over to introduce themselves, or worse, their daughters. He didn't understand why Darcy refused to come, so why was he here himself?

Maybe she had begun to think that he _was_ just using her. His heart fell a little, because he knew that it was partially true. He kept thinking of how great it would be if all these people here had gotten to see her with him. An assistant, with the prince. It would have been a perfect opportunity.

He thought of Susanna, and the other night. He _had_ felt something that night, but he had spent these past few days convincing himself it was purely physical, and nothing more. Perhaps Darcy could provide him with something other than physical attraction; perhaps he really would fall in love with her.

The night had barely begun and he was sick of the party. He saw, with great displeasure, that a tall woman with a horribly crooked nose and what he assumed were her two daughters were making their way over to him. He sighed, but straightened up and smiled.

"Your highness, Jacqueline Vagarte," the woman said in a frosty, condescending voice. "My daughters, Briana and Iriana."

"A pleasure," Ryan said smoothly, and with great disgust, kissed the two girls' hands. They batted their unnaturally thick eyelashes and smiled. They wore quite hideous gowns of pink and green, with large bows on the back. One was tall and thin, and had the misfortune to inherit her mother's large nose; the other was short and rather rotund, and her squirrel-like cheeks were bright red with rouge.

"Will you excuse me?" he said, and turning his back on their disappointed faces, he walked away as fast as possible. He began to walk to the stairs, almost thinking of just leaving, when he stopped dead in the middle of the floor.

On top of the steps stood an almost ethereal Darcy, whose eyes were flying everywhere, her lips pursed nervously. He smiled and made his way to her, skipping up the steps two at a time.

"Darcy, you came!" he said happily when he reached the top. She smiled, but grabbed his hand.

"I really have to talk to you," she whispered.

"Now?" he said, resisting. "I want to show you off," he murmured, placing a kiss on her lips. She smiled, and seemed to relax.

"What made you change your mind?" he asked.

"Miss Bennet," she replied.

Ryan stopped short. Susanna? That was not the answer he was expecting.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes. She came over and lent me a dress, and the shoes, Ryan, look at the shoes!" she said, lifting her skirt so that the clear glass-like shoes sparkled from underneath.

He managed a small smile, but somehow, his mood was ruined. Why did everything always come back to Susanna? Why must he always be reminded of her? Now he was just thinking of her, and how she would have looked in the amazing blue dress that Darcy wore. He sighed, but forced a smile.

"Come on, let's dance," he said.

She nodded, but went very slowly down the stairs, her eyes searching the crowd fervently. They made it down, and were enveloped in the thick of the crowd. They joined the many couples that were already dancing.

"Miss Bennet is leaving for London tomorrow," Darcy whispered in his ear. "Maybe I can get off."

"How long will she be gone?" Ryan asked. Without realizing it, he hoped it wouldn't be for long.

"Just until Monday."

He let out a sigh of relief, which Darcy didn't notice. He found himself picturing Susanna in London, looking beautiful in the London rain… _Snap out of it!_ he scolded himself. _You're here with _Darcy_, focus on _Darcy_…_

Darcy's eyes were still hunting the crowd. Puzzled, he asked jokingly, "What? Are you expecting to see someone you know?"

Darcy gasped. "Did Susanna tell you?"

"Tell me what?" he asked, confused.

Darcy blushed and shook her head. "Nothing, never mind."

He nodded, but was still bewildered. They danced, ate, and then danced some more. He tried to introduce her to some fancy socialites, but whenever he went to say her name, she would blurt out "Carla" or "Lisa." When he raised a questioning eyebrow, she would just smile and say she was having fun. He shrugged and tried to believe her, even when, at random times, she would grab him and whirl him around to another spot on the floor.

Suddenly, in the middle of dance, Darcy's eyes got very wide and she said, "I have to go."

"Wait, why?" he asked, but she was already halfway to the door. He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to keep up with her. She ran up the stairs as fast she could, and was out the door like a flash. Completely and utterly baffled, he slowed to a halt halfway up the stairs, staring at the door. Something caught his eye and he glanced down. One of her shoes, sparkling in the chandelier's light, lay forgotten on the stair. He chuckled in bemusement and picked it up. He would just have to bring it back to Darcy… but just then another thought struck him.

It was Susanna's shoe.

As he stood, holding the shoe, his thoughts and feelings in disarray, the clock struck midnight.


	11. Decisions

A/N – Hey everybody! I was just thinking that I haven't thanked my truly AWESOME and FANTASTIC reviewers in while, so THANK YOU! They mean _so_ incredibly much to me. We broke 100! I think fairy tales is my niche, as I have tried numerous times to write stories for other sections (LotR and Harry) and receive no reviews (except for Aelimer, thank you!) This story is my favorite so far and dare I say my best as well? Also, just wanted to give you all a heads up that a new story is in the making, but it may not be up for a pretty long time. My second semester is the closest thing to hell, so updates may be slow.

I also haven't done a disclaimer in a while, which I really should, so here goes:

Disclaimer: Goodbye, Hello is a Beatles song. Telera is a completely made-up country. All designers mentioned are real ones, and I do not own them, obviously. All characters are _mine and __mine alone. (I think I said this before, but I caught wind that someone might be trying to copy my plot line? Anyone who could give me more information, please inform me. Thanks!)_

Chapter 11

            Susanna landed in London, where it was raining as usual. She grabbed her things and was driven to her cousin's flat, which stood just a block or two from the palace. She walked into the brick building, grateful to be out of the rain, which had been threatening to bring back her cold. She shook herself off, earning a glare from the doorman, who received much of her cast-off rain. She gave him a quick smile and went to the elevator, still dripping a bit. She rose up to the fifth floor, and stepped out to a lovely hallway containing two doors. Her cousin's was on the right, on which she found a note.

            _Suzy:_

_            Sorry I couldn't be here when you came. Work. There's a key under the mat, and you can drop your things in the guest room to the left. I may be home late, so either just get something out of the fridge or go out. Cheerio!_

_            Adrienne_

            Susanna wasn't surprised, and took the key from under the welcome mat and went inside. Adrienne's flat was charming, with hardwood floors, brick fireplaces, and a balcony. It was also a mess. Newspapers were flung everywhere, and books lay open on every couch and chair. Susanna smiled, and took her stuff to the small guest room, the only neat place in the flat.

            She took off her wet clothes and hung them in the closet, and took a quick, hot shower. She noticed it had stopped raining, and stood outside on the balcony for a moment.

            It was late afternoon and London was buzzing, not realizing a half-naked woman in a towel was standing above them. People walked up and down the streets, talking and laughing. The other buildings were just as enchanting as Adrienne's, with their Old World charm. It reminded Susanna of Bonfemme, Telera's main city on the coast. She smiled as a woman walked by with at least five dogs, running to keep up with them. 

            Yet as she looked down on the city, Susanna suddenly felt very lonely. She could call the doubtless numerous people she knew who were in the city for the show, but decided against it. They tended to be rather boring and superficial, and that was the last thing she wanted right now. Suddenly, as if by some psychic coincidence, her phone rang. She hurried back to her room and rummaged through her bags, finally finding it.

            "Hello?" she asked, praying it was someone she wanted to talk to.

            "I bet you look beautiful in London." It was Keith.

            This brought a smile to her face and she sat down on the bed. "Well not at the moment," she said, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was wet and her face looked jetlagged and tired.

            He chuckled. "How is it?"

            "Oh you know… rainy, cloudy… London-y."

            He laughed. "Sounds great."

            "How's the move going?" she asked.

            "Fine, I guess. It's a bit of headache."

            "Yeah, I know what you mean," she mused, remembering her own hellish move from Telera to New York.

            They talked for a bit, about nothing in particular. He suddenly groaned and said that he had to go, one of the mover's was about to break his piano, so they hung up. Significantly happier, Susanna decided to get ready and go out for something to eat.

            She got dressed in a pair of brown corduroy slacks, a crimson turtleneck, and a matching corduroy jacket. She dried her hair and curled it, and then put on a brown pageboy hat, and surprised herself by looking quite good in it. Grabbing her wallet and an umbrella, she headed out. 

            She strolled the streets for a bit, pausing to look at Buckingham Palace. She had been inside once, when she was very young, and it had been much grander than the Teleran palace. She continued on, pausing to look in some quaint shops, purchasing a thing or two, and then decided to go into Harrod's, just to look.

            Looking through the cascades of clothes in Harrod's, Susanna was forced to stop and small-talk with a few people she knew that were in town for the show. They complimented her, and she complimented them, and then they all went back to shopping in their merry way. She ended up with practically more bags than she could carry, and decided it must be dinnertime.

            After only looking for a few minutes, Susanna quickly decided on a cute little café, and sat outside. She surprised the waiter by ordering promptly, and then settled in to watch the people pass by. 

            It had only been a couple of minutes, when Susanna heard from behind her, "Susanna?"

            She turned, ready to make chitchat with yet another fashion colleague. Instead, she was shocked to see none other than Roberto and Alberta sitting at another table. Her jaw dropped and she stood and walked over to them.

            "Oh my God! Wow!" she exclaimed as they stood. They all hugged.

            "What are you two doing here?" Susanna asked.

            "Just visiting. What about you?" Alberta said.

            "I'm just here for a show. They send me all over the place," she explained. 

            "Please, sit with us," Roberto said.

            She agreed and dragged her infinite bags over to their table.

            "So," she began as she settled in, "how's married life?"

            They grinned at each other. "Wonderful," Roberto said, taking Alberta's hand in his own and giving it a kiss. She blushed and they both chuckled. Susanna repressed her vomiting for a moment and gave a small smile.

            "My mother told me you were ill. She was very sorry she could not see you," Roberto said, turning back to Susanna.

            "Yes, I was as well. I hope she enjoyed New York, though," Susanna replied.

            Roberto made a face. "Well, considering she wasn't happy about going in the first place…"

            "Roberto," Alberta admonished him.

            "Oh come on, love, if anyone knows, it's Susanna," he said to her.

            Susanna rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I know."

            They both gave sheepish smiles. "When is Ryan going to learn that he is a prince and must behave like one?" Roberto said in a hushed voice. "Not that you're secretary isn't a lovely girl, I'm sure she is, but still…"

            "The whole country is in an uproar about it," Alberta continued. "It just isn't proper."

            "A secretary is not a respectable acquaintance for a prince. Again, not that I'm judging _her_, but Ryan must meet expectations! Surely you agree, Susanna."

            "It's just terrible. Can you imagine if they were to get married?"

            They both shuddered.

            "They would have to elope. Mother would never allow it," Roberto said.

            "Well, why would she? It's shameful and indecent!"

            Susanna listened to them rant with a quiet annoyance. The more they rambled on about propriety and such, the more Susanna got defensive. Alright, so she hadn't been the hugest supporter of Ryan and Darcy either, but as she listened to Roberto and Alberta, she became angry. Who cares if Ryan wanted to go out with Darcy? First of all, he wasn't even the heir to the throne, and second of all, it _was_ the 21st century. This was exactly how everyone had reacted to Susanna moving, but she had a feeling that this would stick around a bit longer than her scandal had. As they talked on and on, she determined then and there to quit thinking whatever it was she had been thinking about Ryan and staunchly support their relationship. 

            Their food came, and yet they _still_ were talking about Ryan. Susanna tried to cut in here and there, but they would immediately override her. She ate slowly, trying to concentrate on her food instead of their inane blathering. She felt as if their very words were inching their way under her skin, into her very veins. It was driving her crazy.

            They both ordered coffee but Susanna ordered a double shot of espresso. She was going to need it. Their conversation didn't stop once, as they talked about _their wedding, and how nice and respectable everyone was in Telera, and how this was the way things had been for centuries, it was in their blood, et cetera, et cetera. _

            Susanna finally could not take it one more second. She just couldn't. She cracked. Gulping her espresso in one take, she stood up. Their talking ceased and they stared up at her.

            "I'm sorry, your _highness_," she said sarcastically, "but I cannot take one more moment of you two's never-ending drivel about propriety and decorum! It's making me sick! Roberto, this is your _brother, your very flesh and blood, that you're talking about. If he's happy, you should be happy for him, not just rattle on as if he's breaking some fuckin' law! And you, Alberta, less than one __month in the palace and your just as bad as any idiotic, mindless, arrogant noble I know!" she yelled. The street around them had gotten quiet, and Roberto and Alberta stared up at her in shock. She tried to pick up her bags, but in her fury she couldn't get them._

            "Help me, you ass," she yelled to the waiter, "I'm trying to storm off!"

            The stunned waiter hurried forward and gathered up her bags and handed them to her. With one more irritated huff, she walked away as fast as she could in four-inch heels.

***

            Tired, her head reeling, Susanna walked back to Adrienne's flat slowly. This was very bad, she thought. Yelling at the prince and princess was not going to do anybody any good, especially her. Once her mother heard, she was done for. 

            She trudged to the building. The doorman, still irked from earlier, pretended to be reading the newspaper and didn't hold the door for her. She spent nearly five minutes trying to open the door with her bags, until finally she just made three trips in and out the door. Kicking some of them to the elevator, she slumped against the wall and pushed the button. She had only been in it for a few seconds, though, when she stood straight up.

            She sniffed. The elevator smelled of lilacs. Panic seized her as the door opened on Adrienne's floor. Slowly, she made her way to the door, and carefully took out her key. Her shoulders drooping, she submissively opened the door.

            It was as she feared. Her mother, straight-backed and stern-faced, sat perched on one of Adrienne's sofas.

            "I was wondering when you make it here," the duchess said coldly, looking at Susanna with her unrelenting eyes. Susanna made an aggravated noise in her throat. She stepped into the flat and took her hat off, not saying anything. Looking on her mother, all of her anger came rushing back. Literally, _all of her anger. _

            "I thought from where the restaurant was it would not take that long," her mother went on.

            Susanna almost laughed. "I should have known," she muttered.

            "I don't know where I went wrong with you, Susanna, I really don't," her mother said. "That I have to travel to _London_ to _scold_ you for not stopping Ryan when you had the chance! I raised you to be respectful, dignified, gracious…"

            "Shallow, prejudiced, arrogant… I _know_, Mother, the list goes on and on," Susanna interrupted, her voice cold and harsh.

            "Being Teleran aristocracy means you must behave in a certain manner, Susanna! Do realize how embarrassing this is for me? People still hold _me in high esteem, whether or not they do you! How could you have let this fling between Ryan and your secretary go so far?"_

            "Mother…"

            "I should have come sooner. I blame you for this, you've had bad effect on the prince. The queen is outraged, the whole country is. How dare you just ignore all of our respectability! This is all your father's fault, he was far too lenient with you."

            This broke whatever had been holding all of Susanna's feelings back. "No, Mother, this is all _your_ fault. Every decision that I have ever made was because of _you_, to distance myself as far as possible from _you_. Anything I ever wanted was forbidden, because society wouldn't like it. Dad was only one who ever thought that I was something more than just a piece of money. _You_, though,_ you, Mother, are everything I never wanted to be… and I am everything that you couldn't be. Don't you get it? I don't __care anymore what Telera thinks, and I sure as hell don't care what you think." She paused, as her voice went lower. "You're wasting your time, Mother." A tear formed in her eye, threatening to come down her cheek._

            Her mother stood very still, pale as a ghost. She didn't look at Susanna as she took a deep breath and walked around the sofa and to the door. She paused, her hand above the doorknob, but then opened the door and left.

            Susanna stood in the middle of the room, biting her upper lip. She put a shaking hand to her forehead, but it didn't work. Her tears spilled over, and her shoulders shook with sobs. The thought of her father only caused it to be worse, and she placed a hand over her eyes. She felt torn; she had been wanting to say that to her mother for so long and yet now that she had, she wanted to take it back. Her hand moved from her eyes to her mouth, and she looked around the chaotic apartment. A picture stood on an end table of their entire family. She picked it up and looked at it through her teary eyes. Her father smiled happily beside her, his bright blue eyes sparkling. She put it back down and her thoughts flickered to Ryan. She felt torn there as well; if she was being honest with herself… she felt something, and she knew it. Yet now she wanted so badly to approve and support his relationship with Darcy, but she knew it wasn't for the right reasons. 

            Her tears slowed, and finally ended. She didn't cry often, and she felt drained and unstable, so she cleared the couch and sunk onto it. She picked a book off the floor: _The Poetry of Edna __St. Vincent__ Millay. It was worn, and the pages were all ear-marked. Susanna smiled as she opened the old book. Inside she found little post-it notes that her cousin had written to herself: _Read the poems ALOUD. Think about diction.__

            Susanna settled into the couch and began to read.

***

            Ryan had had a terrible day. Once Darcy had run off the night before, he had gone home himself, much to the dismay of the numerous partiers. He had called her first thing in the morning, but she hadn't called back. He tried many more times throughout the morning, but to no avail.

            He now sat in his room, his head in his hands, after just being told by his lately-distant brother that he had seen Susanna in London and that she had gone ballistic on them. He groaned; the last thing he wanted was to think of Susanna right now.

            But think of her he did. Somehow, though, the more he thought of _Susanna the more he thought of _Darcy_, and how wonderful Darcy truly was. For the time that they had been at the party, he had a really great time. Why would he even think of Susanna anyway? For the most part, she was mean, sarcastic, and most likely utterly not likely to reciprocate any kind of feelings he had._

            But why did she say those things to Roberto and Alberta? Did she really care about his happiness, or was she just using this as another reason to hate Telera? A feeling in his stomach told him the latter. He was sick of these thoughts and feelings. If love was there, wouldn't he know it?

            He sighed, but stood up. It was Darcy, it had to be. Susanna was far too complicating, and she only made matters worse when he thought of her. Darcy, though, was warm and kind and caring, everything that he wanted. Right?

            A knock came at the door and he traipsed over to it. Opening it, he found a bouquet of flowers on the floor. He picked them up and read the card:

            _Ryan:_

_            I apologize for leaving so suddenly, and that I haven't returned your calls. I can't explain right now, but I assure you that I will tell you everything soon._

_            Love,_

_            Darcy_

            He smiled, as the sign of affection confirmed his decision. Darcy was the one.

***

            Susanna had fallen asleep on the couch, corduroy pants and all. She woke to the bright morning sun on her face and the smell of coffee.

            "Good morning, sunshine!" Her cousin was in the kitchen, cooking something on the stove. 

            Susanna stood and stretched, and then walked to the kitchen and gave her cousin a hug. Adrienne had wavy, strawberry-blonde hair that cascaded to her waist. She wore blue striped pajama pants and a white camisole. She was tall and fit, but her tanned face and bright smile were anything but intimidating.

            Adrienne grinned wider as Susanna yawned and sat on the counter. She still felt tired from crying and yelling, and some of the anger from yesterday was still lingering, but she put on a smile for her cousin.

            "So," Adrienne began, "you want to tell me why you're going around and yelling at princes?"

            Susanna groaned. "I don't even know."

            Adrienne nodded knowingly and put some eggs on a plate. She poured them two cups of coffee and they sat at her small dining table. The doors to the balcony were open and let in the fresh morning air, still having that after-rain smell. They read the paper while they ate, and Susanna felt comforted by the relaxed silence. Adrienne was one of the few people in her life with which she had always felt at ease with, who she didn't always have to talk with to be reassured by; it was enough just to know that Adrienne understood and was there for her. 

            "You have to work today?" Susanna asked.

            "Yeah," Adrienne said with a sigh.

            "How do you do it?" Susanna asked incredulously.

            "Do what?"

            "Work all the time. Isn't it exhausting?"

            Adrienne smiled, her green eyes twinkling. "Sometimes. Not nearly as exhausting as a cotillion, though."

            Susanna chuckled. There was a pause.

            "Suzy, tell me the truth. Do you like Ryan?" Adrienne asked.

            Susanna sighed and took a long, careful sip of her coffee. "I don't know," she said. "Sometimes I just feel such a… connection with him. But then sometimes I can't stand him."

            "Isn't that just like love, though? Weren't you reading Millay last night?"

            "Yeah."

            "'Pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind notices at ever turn'," she quoted.

            Susanna sighed. "The last thing I need is love," she said sarcastically. "When it's there, I'll know it."

            "Are you sure?" Adrienne questioned doubtfully.

            Susanna looked at her and said, "Yes, I am." 

            "Sometimes love's there even when you don't see it, Suzy."

            "Yes, but someone who loves you is going to care about you and encourage you and love you for who you are," Susanna said, an edge to her voice.

            "Sometimes it's hard to admit that you care about someone that much. It's even harder to show it."

            The conversation was angering Susanna. "Trust me, you would show it, or else you would lose them forever. If it's me, and someone doesn't show me how much they care, I'm not going to stick around, waiting and hoping that they will. I'm not going to be some sap who waits by the phone every night just praying that some guy will call."

            "Not everyone who waits for someone is a sap, Susanna. Sometimes you just need to give someone time."

            "No, if they don't see it right when you do, move on."

            "Then you'll end up with someone you don't truly love."

            This halted Susanna for a moment. Her thoughts flashed to her parents; she had known her whole lives that they had only married for prosperity, yet they had gotten along just fine. She thought for a moment if maybe you don't need love to be happy; besides, love was cruel and difficult… wasn't it?

            "Sometimes that works out," Susanna said.

            Adrienne didn't answer, but her eyes had lost their sparkle. Her eyebrows flinched and then she went back to her newspaper.

            Susanna got out of her chair and put her dishes in the sink. She went to her room to change for the show, but she couldn't concentrate. Her mind was decided; if it was going to be anyone, it would be Keith. Keith was passionate, and considerate, and sweet. He took the time to tell her how he felt, and was never secretive about his feelings. Ryan never seemed to care enough about her to be worth her time. Sure, there were those few times when she felt something, even felt something strong. She couldn't deny it; the way she felt in his arms dancing, the way he had kissed her on the cheek… This was ridiculous. All he cared for was himself, and pretending to rebel against his mother. That was all that Darcy was, and Susanna decided she was done with it. Screw supporting their relationship; hell, screw supporting him at all! All he gave her was mixed signals, and she was stupid for even putting up with it for this long. Ever since he had come to New York, her whole life had been turned upside down. Well, enough was enough.

            She was through.


	12. Life Is Pretty Complex Stuff

Chapter 12

Darcy woke up, beads of sweat pouring down her face. She sighed, and shifted onto her back. Of course, she had fallen asleep on her chair in front of the fire yet again. The sun had yet to rise, but she stood and stretched. Walking to her small, cold bathroom, she took a towel and wiped the soot and sweat off her face. She looked in her mirror, and her shoulders slumped. She wasn't fit for a prince!

_Look at yourself_, she thought. _You're practically a servant!_

She was still recovering from the anxiety that perhaps her stepfamily had seen her two nights ago at the party. She hadn't seen Ryan since, and instead had sent him some flowers. That gave her a fresh new worry: did she appear desperate? Too clingy?

These thoughts plagued her as she spent nearly every moment with her stepfamily, trying to appear as normal as possible. She would have to go back to work tomorrow, since Susanna was returning, but for now she followed her family around like the little servant she was.

Glancing at her clock, she was relieved to see it was only 4 a.m.; there was no need to get up quite yet. The pathetic fire was the only dim light in the room, and she slumped back into her chair. A small picture of her father stood on the dismal mantle, smiling comfortingly at her. He had been a tall, strong man, with blonde hair and brown eyes. He had been married to her mother for twenty years; when Darcy ten years old, however, her mother died of leukemia. Her father was never the same. He lost his job, they lost their house, and Darcy had to work every day after school.

One day, though, when Darcy was sixteen, something was different. Her father began to shave in the morning; he read the classifieds and bought new clothes; he began to clean their small New Jersey apartment. Darcy, who back then was naught but skin and bones, and did little more than schoolwork, work, and sleep, didn't notice right at first. But then one day her father told her to dress in her finest, and to get the night off from work. They traveled into the city and to a shining golden hotel, where they were taken all the way to the top and into the fanciest apartment Darcy had ever seen. It was filled with prim, finely attired adults, and Darcy was old enough to feel ashamed at her sewn and re-sewn cotton dress. Her father, an odd look on his face, hurried Darcy through the crowd and to the balcony. He continued on, but Darcy had halted by the glass door, staring at the tall, thin woman whom her father had hurried over to. She had long, shiny black hair with cold, gray eyes, but Darcy found she couldn't stop staring at her abnormally large, crooked nose. Two girls stood on either side of her, one with the same black, curly hair, and one with blonde hair like herself. One was tall and thin like her mother, but the other was short and rather round. Darcy remembered her heart falling as she looked on her father cheerily conversing with them.

Two months later her father and Miss Vagarte were married. They sold their hole of an apartment and moved into the city, to a penthouse on Lexington Avenue. Her father got a job on Wall Street, leaving Darcy to succumb to her new family's every whim. She was strictly forbidden to go to college, so instead she took up a few secretarial jobs here and there, just to get out her stepmother's way.

Nearly four years later, however, when Darcy was twenty, her father left for work in the morning and never came back. Panicked, Darcy called his cellphone, his coworkers, everyone she could think of. Not five minutes later, a call from the hospital came, confirming that they were John Thomas Clevell's family. He had had a heart attack. An hour later, he was dead.

Now an orphan, the Vagartes were truly the only family Darcy had. A year later, she took the job as Susanna Bennet's secretary, which, from what she heard, was a coveted yet difficult position. She had been in awe of Miss Bennet the very moment she had stepped into the office; she was everything that Darcy had always wanted to be: strong, confident, talented, and let's face it, rich. But she was also sarcastic, cynical, and at times, mean. Yet Darcy could relate, because she knew that Miss Bennet had good reason to be all those things.

Darcy was suddenly snapped out of her reverie by a sharp knock at the door. The cook had arrived, and wanted her help in the kitchen. She got up, and with a sigh, left her room.

In the kitchen, she stirred consistently as her thoughts drifted off again. Her parents, her true parents, had really loved each other, even if their lives had been kind of boring. That was what her mother had always told her, "Don't settle for someone just because their exciting. Excitement dies, and excitement isn't love."

Darcy suddenly stopped stirring. She had a revelation, like a bolt of lightning. She didn't love Ryan. He was just exciting, like her mother said. It would die soon, and then where would she be?

* * *

Ryan woke up happily, thinking of Darcy. Ah, what fun to be in love! He got up and opened the curtains, filling the room with bright sunshine. Autumn was setting in, and the leaves on the trees were brilliantly red, orange, and gold. An endless smile on his face, he ate breakfast, showered, and got dressed, ready to go find Darcy. He didn't care anymore why she had left the party so hastily; he figured she would tell him in her own time. He had quit thinking of Susanna entirely, or at least, tried to.

He was putting on his jacket when a knock came at his door. He opened it to find Darcy, who actually looked tired and in sweats, but to Ryan, she never looked more beautiful.

"Darcy!" he cried, and gave her kiss. "I'm so happy to see you!"

"Ryan, I think we need to talk," she said, coming in, wringing her hands.

Ryan didn't notice her agitation, and instead wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. She seemed swayed for a moment, her eyes closed and her lips beginning to smile, but then she shook her head and broke free.

"Ryan, listen, about the other night –" she began.

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted. "I'm sure you had a good reason."

"Well, yes, but, I still need to talk to you," she insisted, stiffening as he brushed his lips along her neck and collarbone.

"About what?" he murmured, but she seemed to be melting in his arms. Her eyes were closed again, and she allowed him to gently back her against the sofa, until she fell over and lay down on it. He softly got on top of her, and began again to kiss her, more passionately this time. She groaned in her throat, her breathing becoming rougher.

"I just… you're… exciting…" she breathed, gasping as his hand ran down her side and brushed along her thigh.

"Why thank you," he said with a smile, and was surprised when she began to ardently kiss him back, tearing open his shirt. A thought ran through his mind – did he want where this was going? He moaned as her hand slipped farther and farther down, and he decided yes, definitely, he did want this.

As for Darcy, all thoughts of her mother's advice flew out of mind, and she smiled through their kisses as she let her hand travel down. She heard him moan, which only turned her on more. His arms pressed her closer to him, and she decided that, at least for now, she'd much rather have excitement than love.

* * *

Susanna, irritated and jet-lagged, dragged her luggage up to her apartment late Sunday morning. She was still angry from everything that had happened in London, and all she wanted to do right now was sleep. And sleep she did. Dumping her bags at the door, she threw off her shoes and fell onto the nearest sofa, and went straight to sleep.

She woke up in the late afternoon, and finding herself to smell like pubs and peanuts, she staggered to the shower. She threw on some jeans and a sweatshirt, and was attempting to unpack when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she said crossly.

"Susanna, mon petit chou!"

Susanna laughed, the first time she had done so in three days. "Hello, Godmother." It was her French godmother, Clarissa, who was really her father's elder cousin, or something like that. She had been appointed Susanna's godmother for some unknown reason, but had never failed; every birthday, holiday, or any other occasion, a package would surely be there from France.

"Darling! How is my goddaughter?" Clarissa asked in her thick French accent.

Susanna lied and said, "Fine."

"Ah, no you are not, do not lie to your godmuzzer!" her godmother scolded.

Susanna sighed. "How do you know?"

"Godmuzzers _always_ know, Susanna."

Susanna smiled. "I suppose you've heard?"

"Oui, many times," Clarissa said with a click of her tongue. "And I am in New York, and I want to see you."

This brightened Susanna's spirits. "Of course! Come on over!"

"I am already halfway there. See you in five minutes."

Susanna hung up, and decided she should change. She put on a pair of nicer jeans and a red sweater, and quickly braided her wet hair. She had barely finished when her godmother was knocking at the door. Susanna hurried down from her room and opened the door.

"Susanna!"

"Godmother!"

They hugged happily. Clarissa was about Susanna's height, with a thin frame, smooth, porcelain skin, and snow-white hair. She was decked out in fabulous jewels, from her ears to her wrists, and wore an elegant, sequined pant and top. She looked Susanna over with her bright blue eyes, and smiled in approval.

"You're as lovely as ever," she announced, and Susanna smiled.

They moved to the living room and sat down. They talked a little of Susanna's job, and Clarissa's home in Provence, but Susanna's godmother quickly went to other matters.

"Susanna, darling, do not feel ashamed for what you said," her godmother began.

"I don't!" Susanna cried, but sighed under her godmother's gaze.

"I know, dear. Perhaps you are bit… jealous?"

Susanna looked at her sharply. "Of what?"

"Of zis… Darcy. She is getting a lot of attention; attention you used to get," her godmother explained.

"I don't think that's it," Susanna said softly.

Her godmother smiled. "I know zat you and Ryan did not alvays get along, but he is happy, is he not?"

Susanna groaned, and thought with sharp regret on what she had said to Adrienne. "I guess I am jealous," she admitted, something she was only ever able to do with her godmother. "It's just… so romantic, you know? What if I never have that? What if I end up like my parents?" she wondered aloud.

Her godmother smiled, and wrapped an arm around Susanna. "When your father died," she began softly after a few moments, "your mother cried nonstop for a week. Even though he had been sick for many months, she was not prepared for it, like you were. She found a letter in his desk to her, and do you know what he wrote? He told her that even though they may not have fallen in love at first sight, he loved her more than anyone in the whole world by the time he died. You do not find that romantic?"

Susanna smiled a little, a tear in her eye. "Yes, I suppose."

Her godmother gave her a squeeze. "I wish I could turn your motorcycle into a golden carriage, and give you glass slippers and a ballgown and send you off to find your prince charming. But alas, I am no fairy godmother." She paused. "Romance is everywhere, Susanna. You just have to be open and brave enough to find it."

Susanna nodded, her tear stalled.

"However," her godmother continued, "I am glad to see you have not lost your wit," she laughed. "Your father would be proud."

Susanna smiled. "Thank you, Godmother. Sometimes I wish you could send me to the ball… sometimes I wish I was Cinderella instead of one of the boring nobles the prince is forced to dance with until she shows up."

Clarissa smiled. "You should call Adrienne, and say just that."

Susanna made a noise in her throat. "I don't know what's wrong with me," she said. "I feel bipolar… one minute I hate love, the next I want it…"

Her godmother chuckled. "Don't you see? That _is_ being in love."

Susanna laughed, but the comment stuck with her. Her godmother left with a wink and a kiss, but Susanna sank back down onto the sofa. She soon regretted everything, including what she had said to her mother. Could her godmother be right? Was she in love? With… Keith? Something nagged at her that that wasn't it. But she refused to think of who else it might be… that never led her anywhere. Perhaps it was Keith, then. And yet…

Tired with these thoughts, she called Adrienne and left a long, apologizing message on her machine. She then picked up the phone to call her mother, but put it back down.

"Just get it over with," she whispered to herself. After many more pick-ups and put-downs, she finally dialed the number. It rang and rang and rang, and she let out a relieved breath as her mother's official message machine came on.

"Um, hi, Mom, it's me," she began awkwardly. "Listen… I guess I'll just say it… I'm sorry. I am, really." She paused. "I suppose growing up I just always had this image and thought of you as some sort of unfeeling, controlling monster who I just had to get away from." She thought of what her godmother had said. "But that's not you, Mom. I know Dad dying was difficult and painful for you, but I guess I was just so mad at both of you I didn't see it. I was mad at him for leaving me… but then, he was leaving you, too." Tears came into her eyes, and she tried to blink them away, but her voice began to shake. "I know this whole Ryan and my secretary thing is weird for you… it's weird for everyone. I just… I just don't want to grow old knowing that something like this came between us. I guess what I'm saying is… I'm sorry, and I hope that you forgive me." She paused again, and then hung up.

* * *

Darcy sat on the sofa, horrified at what she had just done. She had specifically come here to tell Ryan to cool things down, and what did she do? Slept with him! She smiled weakly at Ryan, who was cheerily making waffles in the kitchen. It had been amazing, of course, but she felt terrible for completely rescinding her goal. Now she would have to wait to tell him, because what kind of slut has sex with a guy and then tells him to cool down?

"Fresh waffles," Ryan said merrily, placing the plates down in front of her and kissing her on the lips. She smiled, and ate slowly.

"Something wrong?" Ryan asked, noticing. "Was it bad?" he said, a hint of a smile on his face.

She shook her head. "No… it was incredible," she said.

He smiled rather smugly. "Then what is it?"

"Nothing," she told him. He shrugged and believed it. Once they were finished, he took the plates back to the kitchen, leaving Darcy to sit dismally on the couch. She tried to look anywhere but the sofa, as now it just made her feel terrible.

"Now, I know you may not want to," Ryan called from the kitchen, "but how do you feel about visiting Telera?"

He was smiling hopefully at her, and she sighed. What was she doing? He was a great guy… a terrific guy. But then her mother's words came back to her… but how was she going to break up with him? Without feeling arrogant, she knew he was awfully hung up on her, and he wasn't going to go easy.

"I don't know," she finally answered.

"Well, think about it," he said. She smiled and nodded.

"I should get going," she said. She couldn't stand it much longer.

He looked disappointed, but nodded. He left the kitchen and followed her to the door.

"Goodbye," he murmured, and kissed her long and deeply. She let her hand run along his face, but then took a deep breath and left.

* * *

Once Darcy left, Ryan showered again and took a walk. He came back late in the afternoon, his strong emotions from earlier dying down. He ordered his usual room service, and deliberately sat on a different sofa.

The phone rang halfway through dinner. He swallowed and answered.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry."

He paused. "Susanna?"

"Yes," she said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky.

"Everything alright?" he asked, somehow worried.

"Fine. I just wanted to apologize if I caused you any trouble."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I'm just kind of in an apologizing mood," she said.

"Um, alright," he said, but he couldn't stop thinking that he wanted to comfort her. _Darcy, Darcy, Darcy_, he forced himself.

"I just know what the repercussions from something like this can be like," she went on. "Remember the Duke of Mulaire?"

"Ugh, yes," Ryan said with chuckle. The duke had said something offensive to the queen, and before long he and his whole family had been all but exiled.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure I didn't cause you and Darcy any trouble."

He paused. "No, actually. In fact, you made things very pleasing."

She must have noticed the change in his voice. "Really? Well, I am rather… _stimulating_," she purred, her voice husky and sensuous.

He felt a prick, make that a blow, of excitement. How was it that Susanna was able to do with just her voice that Darcy could only do with her actual touch? He managed to chuckle.

"Anyway," she continued normally, "that's all. I just wanted to check."

"Do you really feel alright, Susanna?" he asked. Something was bugging him about all of this.

"Why?" she said cautiously.

"I don't know… this is very strange. Why do you care?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You don't believe in love," he said simply, and without thinking.

There was a long pause, and he immediately regretted having said it. "I'm sorry, Susanna, I didn't mean-"

"I have other calls to make," she said. "Goodbye, Ryan."

She hung up, and he slowly clicked his phone off. He tried to continue eating, but found he couldn't. He let his head fall to the table. He hadn't meant that! Was there any cure to this Susanna plague he seemed to have? But then… he was in love with Darcy, right? He must focus all his attention on Darcy, make Darcy want to be with him forever… he and Susanna could be friends, of course, but it was Darcy… it was Darcy… it was Darcy…

* * *

Susanna hung up the phone with a click. She should've known that nothing good ever came of her godmother's 'enlightening' visits. Why _did_ she care if her little tantrum had any effect on Ryan and Darcy? It sure as hell hadn't, anyway… they'd slept together, that much she knew.

Back came her bipolar-ness. She didn't feel sorry for apologizing to Adrienne and her mother – they she really had needed to apologize to. But Ryan? Her godmother hadn't said anything about apologizing to him… so why had she?

_Perhaps I'm a caring person…_ No, that's not it. _Perhaps I'm in lo-_ No! Nothing would come of _that_. She finally determined it was just something subconscious and utterly out of her control.

"I'm sick of this!" she exclaimed out loud. "I just want things to go back to what they were!" She stamped her foot and went out to her balcony. The cool autumn air fell over her as she gazed out to the twinkling lights of New York. If she had known back in August that things would get this complicated if Ryan came to New York, she never would have said yes. But here she was, with complicated feelings all over the place.

"All I have to do is sort them out," she said to herself. "Well, my father's still dead but I think things with my mother are looking better. I'm angry that everyone thinks Ryan and Darcy are ill-suited for each other, but then again _I _think that they're ill-suited for each other. Darcy can't deal with that much excitement, and Ryan… Ryan should like someone like me. Sometimes I think that Ryan _could_ like me, but then sometimes he makes me so angry I could be done with him forever. I would like to fall in love, but then again that would make even _more _problems. Keith… well, I think Keith thinks that this is going somewhere, but I'm not sure it is. He's great but there just isn't that… something."

She paused, the only sound the loud traffic below. "Well, that didn't solve anything," she said exasperatedly. She sighed, and leaned against the rail. "At least I know how I feel," she said. "And right now, I feel pretty crazy," she said, realizing that she was outside, talking aloud to herself.

"Life is far too complicated."


	13. Revelations

Chapter 13

"Good morning, good morning, good morning!"

Susanna awoke to a singing, far too cheerful voice. She rubbed her eyes and stretched her back as Vivian bounced into the room. The merry redhead bounded onto her bed, springing on the mattress.

"Ugh," Susanna moaned. "Why, why so early?" she said, looking at the clock. She then groaned to see it flashing 5:30 A.M.

"Well, wake up and I'll show you!" Vivian sang, flicking on the lights.

100-watt light flooded the room, and Susanna shrieked, burying her head in the pillows.

"Go away," she mumbled, muffled in the fabric.

"Come on, this is important!" Vivian said, grabbing Susanna's arm and rolling her onto her back.

"Wha-" but Susanna never finished the question. Once on her back, she opened her eyes to see Vivian's hand in her face. But it was not a naked hand. A huge, sparkling diamond ring glittered on her left ring finger.

Susanna gasped, her mouth hanging open. She seized the hand and sat up straighter. Her eyes grew large and she almost forgot to breathe. She was fixated by the enormous diamond that seemingly weighed Vivian's whole hand down.

"He asked last night," Vivian said with a squeal, a perpetual grin on her face. "We're going to be married in a week!"

This brought Susanna to her senses. She dropped the hand and now turned her gaping face to Vivian.

"A week?!" she yelped.

Vivian nodded. "In _Italy_!"

"Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa, slow down a second," Susanna said, holding her hands up in surrender. "You've known this guy how long?"

"A month!" Vivian said. "The best month of my life," she added dreamily.

"And now you're getting married in a _week_? A _week_?" Susanna demanded.

"Yes! It's going to be _fabulous_."

"But after only a month?" she asked harshly.

"Yes… aren't you happy for me?" Vivian asked, a little deflated.

Susanna paused. "It's just so… fast, don't you think?"

"You think it's a bad idea," Vivian said. "I knew you would, I knew you wouldn't approve," she said, getting off the bed.

"No, Viv, it's not that," Susanna said, getting out to follow her. She tripped a little on the bedsheets, and had to trot to catch up with Vivian.

"Wait… Viv…"

"Susanna," Vivian said, stopping in the middle of the stairs to turn to her friend, "do you think it's too fast?"

"Well, yes," Susanna said truthfully.

"And because it's so fast it won't last, right?"

Susanna bit her lip. Her pause said everything.

"I knew it. I _knew_ you couldn't be happy for me," Vivian continued, going down the stairs.

"Viv, it's not that, I _am_ happy for you…"

"No, you're not, Suzy, don't lie to me!" Vivian said, close to the door. She turned with her hand on the knob.

"It's just that generally when people get married so soon it doesn't work!" Susanna tried to reason.

"Suzy, have you ever been in love?"

Susanna hesitated. She thought for a moment, and then said, "No," taking her gaze from Vivian to the floor.

Vivian sighed. "Then you have no right to judge _mine_." She turned the door knob and left.

Susanna felt like she had been slapped in the face, looking at the closed door. What the hell kind of friend was she? To not even congratulate her friend on her engagement…

Her head hurt from being awoken so early and abruptly. Suddenly, she felt something she rarely felt: a well of tears behind her eyes. How pathetic was she? There she stood, alone in her great big apartment, in the hallway with her designer pajamas on, staring at the door through which her friend had just left because she couldn't even be happy that her friend was in love.

Whether it was from her teary-eyed sleepiness, or her realization of her extreme wretched state, she took the phone off an end table and dialed a number.

"Are you in love?" she said, not caring if her gloom could be heard through the phone.

"Susanna? Is that you?" She had woken Ryan up.

"Are you in love?" she repeated.

"What's wrong? You sound terrible… did something happen? Are you alright?"

She paused. "Are you in love?"

"Susanna…"

"Are you?"

He hesitated, a heavy silence. "Yes."

A tear ran down her cheek. She held her head in her free hand. "Has everyone been except me?"

"Stay there, I'm coming over." There was a click, and then the dial tone returned. The tears began to fall, and Susanna hung up the phone and sat miserably on the stairs. What was wrong with her? She drew her knees to her chest and placed her head down on them, her shoulders shaking. There was definitely something psychologically wrong with her. But how could Vivian find someone so quickly that not only did she love but that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with? Meanwhile, Susanna pretended to not be in love just to save face. It takes guts to admit that you love someone so much you'll love them for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health. She couldn't applaud Vivian for that? No, she just had to be angry that she didn't have the guts herself.

There was a soft knock at the door, and then it was opened. The dim light from the lobby cast an odd beam across the apartment's dark hall, landing on Susanna, who didn't look up.

"Oh no," she heard Ryan say softly, followed by his hurried footsteps. She felt an arm wrap around her, but she tensed.

"You shouldn't have come," she choked. "It's too embarrassing."

She tried to swiftly wipe her face, but he took her hands and wrapped them in both his own.

"Vivian's engaged," she said in a hushed, shaky voice. "She's only known him for a month... I didn't even congratulate her."

He pressed his forehead to hers, and tipped her chin so she was forced to look in his eyes.

"I couldn't even be happy for my own friend! And why? Because I'm not happy myself? That's no excuse, but it's true," she continued, before he could speak. She felt frightened to hear what he would say, so she went on. "Vivian's found someone she can be with the rest of her life and I… I haven't found anyone… not anyone who would want me, anyways…"

"Susanna, shhh," he interrupted, putting a finger to her lips. He paused, before saying, "I know we haven't exactly… gotten along," he began in a husky whisper. "But ever since I've come here I've… I care about you so much, Susanna. I don't know why, but you've become someone I look forward to hearing from, to seeing… whether you be arranging hats or yelling at my brother…"

She chuckled, and he smiled, feeling encouraged.

"You're an amazing person, Susanna. And whether I want to admit it or not… I want you in my life, Susanna… you're _not_ going to end up alone. And yes, actually, I am in love…"

She tensed, and drew a little away from him. Somehow, she had become scared. Terrified, even. Hearing all those things, she felt maybe she could… but no, he _was_ in love, and it wasn't with her.

"With Darcy," she said. "You're in love with Darcy."

It was nearly pitch black, and she couldn't see his face. Something told her his eyes had fallen, though. His hands relaxed, and he also pulled away a little.

"Yes," he said, as if it weren't quite true. "Yes, I am."

Even though she knew it, her heart fell a little at those words. This whole thing had shown Susanna her true nature, and she wasn't happy with it. Why _hadn't_ she been happy for Vivian? Why couldn't she be happy for Ryan and Darcy?

Because they had exactly what _she_ wanted. Her! Susanna! The cold-hearted, sarcastic, cynical… yet why was she all those things? Because she had always thought that love wasn't needed to be happy; it was, after all, how she had grown up. But she wanted to be in love! She wanted to hop on an airplane and get married in Italy!

Judging by what Ryan's hand was making her feel, however, she wanted all those things with him.

This realization hit Susanna like a gunshot. Her tears suddenly stopped and she wiped them quickly.

"I should get back to bed, I have to go to work," she said softly.

He nodded. "You're right. Goodbye, Susanna," he said. He then gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and then left, shutting out the lobby light completely.

* * *

Ryan closed the door slowly, reluctantly. There were so many thoughts swimming through his mind, he hardly knew where to begin.

_How about starting with that thrumming in your heart?_

He sighed as he pressed the button for the lowest floor. It was as he had always feared… he had feelings for Susanna. _Strong _feelings. But she didn't feel the same, that he knew. She, for all her knowledge and passion and beauty, would never be capable of returning any form of love.

It truly was Darcy, then. Despite his best attempts, the thought disappointed him. Although he had thought that being with Darcy would be more adventurous, he found himself longing for the excitement that a relationship with Susanna could bring. He wanted to be around her laughter, her bravery… even her cynicism. But a woman like Susanna was not for loving; she was for wanting. She was the epitome of that woman whom every man loved to want, but knew they could never have.

Which leaves that woman very much alone.

* * *

Susanna got into the elevator, ready for the day. She felt infinitely better than she had that morning; she had gone back to where she felt safest: her haven of cynicism. Sure, it may not be the healthiest way to deal with problems, but for Susanna it was the only way. She was also ready to apologize profusely to her best friend and make mends.

Dressed in a fire-red leather skirt and white top, Susanna leaned against the mirrored wall. She attempted to block the flood of thoughts that threatened to overtake her mind; she had been doing the same all morning.

The elevator stopped at the 22nd floor, and Fraulein VanAvryn, a wealthy, yet kind, German woman came aboard. She smiled warmly at Susanna.

"Guten morgen, Susanna," she said.

"Guten morgen, Fraulein," Susanna answered.

"You look forlorn," the fraulein said. "Vhat is wrong?"

Susanna smiled. "Nothing, Fraulein."

"Ah… lofe gone wrong, hm?" the shrewd elderly woman said.

Susanna chuckled, but decided to tell the truth. "You could say that."

"Of course. And vhat hafe you decided?"

Susanna paused. "I've decided love is foolish."

"Ah, but is foolish not in the definition of lofe?" she retorted.

"Well, I am not foolish," Susanna said.

"Eferyone who iz made for lofing iz foolish."

"Perhaps I'm not made for loving, then, eh?" Susanna said with knowing smile, cocking her eyebrow. The doors opened and she stepped out, bidding Fraulein VanAvryn goodbye.

Once at work, Susanna took care of some immediate business, and then picked up the phone. She dialed Vivian's number.

"Hi, Viv, it's me," she said, sounding miserable and despondent.

She heard Vivian take a deep breath. "Hi, Suzy."

The nickname lifted Susanna's spirits. "Listen, about this morning-"

"Forget it," Vivian said.

"No, I was being stupid, I don't have any-"

"Suzy, I understand," Vivian interrupted again.

"You do?"

"Yeah, of course. It's _you_, Suzy. I hope you don't find offense to this, but I kind of expected you to react like that."

"Why?"

"Well, face it, Suzy, you're pessimistic. You're cynical. And you've never really been in love, right?"

Susanna's mind's eye saw Ryan for a moment. "Right."

"And quite frankly you may never be. But I want you to be there, more than anyone. You're my best friend, Suzy, and I can't get married if you're not there," Vivian said, a pleading tone to her voice.

Susanna sighed. The little voice inside her head was screaming that this marriage could never possibly work… but it was her friend. Her best friend… perhaps her only friend.

"Of course," Susanna said.

"Oh, thank you, Suzy! It's going to be in Venice next Saturday." Vivian paused. "But you have to admit it's romantic, right?"

Susanna chuckled. "Yeah, it's romantic."

Vivian giggled. "Thank you, Susanna. Really."

"I know," Susanna said.

"See you there, then?"

"Yeah. See you."

They hung up, and Susanna resumed her normal work. She had barely opened a drawer, however, when Darcy came through the door.

"I'm sorry, Miss Bennet, but I just can't take it anymore!" the girl cried.

"What?" Susanna asked, curious.

"Ryan has called five times already this morning. And every time, he always asks 'you still love me, right?' What do you say to that?" Darcy said, her eyes almost maniacal.

"Oh no," Susanna said. "I am officially not the love advice central. In fact, I'm probably the exact opposite," she said broodingly, thinking of what both Fraulein VanAvryn and Vivian had said.

"Oh right. I remember Mr. Simmons' secretary telling me that," Darcy said.

This caught Susanna's attention. "She told you what, exactly?"

Darcy became uneasy. "Nothing," she said, backing toward the door, "just that you're cynical yet beautiful so you'll probably never love anyone, okay, bye," she said quickly, shutting the door.

Susanna grunted in frustration. Did everyone just assume that she could never love? That she was just some sort of machine that hated everything and could never be capable of returning any sort of feeling?

Did Ryan think that?

Probably. Especially after that morning… and now he's calling Darcy every five minutes. It was _so_ obvious that he loved Darcy, so _why_ must she keep thinking about him? _Why_ must she keep thinking about the way his touch had made her feel, or even the fact that he had come over in the first place made her feel? _Why_ was she falling in love at the utterly wrong moment?

She plopped into her chair and stared pensively at her computer screen. It was time to write her column for Vogue, and for whatever reason, she felt more inspired than ever.

_Dear readers_, she wrote:

_I usually use this column to divulge my thoughts on the latest runways and designers. Yet today I would like us, both you and I, to step out of the immediate fantastical, fairy-tale world of fashion, just for a moment, and look at the broader picture._

_ It has come to my attention that I, a prime figure in the fashion world, have been construed to many as a cynical, incapable-of-love robot. And while I am still on a search to decide whether or not this is true, I would like to ponder why I am not the only one interpreted as such._

_ The realm of fashion is, let's face it, superficial and merely aesthetic. And while clothes can make ones body feel rather spectacular, it does nothing for the nature of your soul. I, for one, can testify for this. I have worn designer clothes probably every day of my life; knowing my mother, my diapers were most likely Versace. However, if fashion could make a person's spirit feel wonderful, why are many fashion magnates painted as I am?_

_ I will admit that in recent times, truthfully in just the last few days, I have felt something that I will assume resembles love. But I wonder if another profession could have made me a more feeling, emotionally-in-tune person._

_ Don't get me wrong. I am perfectly happy with the way that I am, and my one true passion is fashion (no rhyme intended). But do you ever wonder if when you have so much passion for one thing it lets you save none for anything else?_

_ My point, however vague or far-fetched, is that many in the fashion industry are just as I am: distant, unattached, and misunderstood. Are we the products of our vocation? Or is the vocation a product of us: are distant and unattached persons attracted to this field of work?_

_ Perhaps this is far too much to decide in one mere column. But I ask you, my informed and perchance in-love reader, do you know the answer? Because, to tell you the truth, I haven't the vaguest idea._

She hit enter and sent the column to Vogue. She took a deep breath; she had pretty much just poured out her thoughts to a reader-base that reached the far corners of the world. What were the consequences?

"I just need some answers," she said exasperatedly to herself. She sighed and grabbed her purse and jacket, and went to lunch.

She was sitting in her usual spot in Bryant Park when she saw Keith walking toward her. She sighed; their 'relationship', if you could call it that, had been a strange thing. It had been a few days of sizzle and then it was gone. She knew the end was near, but gave a hopefully-cheerful smile as he sat down.

"We need to talk," he said right away.

She was a little shocked that he was so frank, but nodded. "I know."

"Susanna, honestly… I don't want to beat around the bush," he said.

"Please don't," she encouraged.

"I don't think this is going anywhere. You're gorgeous and captivating, but… honestly, Susanna, you're just not girlfriend-material."

Susanna nearly choked on her sandwich. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or to be angry.

"It's just that I'm in a place in my life where I'm ready to find someone for life, and you're not that. Let's face it, we had our fun, but you're just not at the emotional and intellectual place that I am."

That comment made Susanna begin to get angry.

"And besides, I've been thinking, and I think you're just not able to truly love," he continued.

Susanna locked her jaw and sarcastically counted her fingers. "Okay that's one, two, three… four! Four people who have said that today!"

"You just aren't there yet," Keith said. "You may be able to use your body to substitute for love, but you haven't matured enough to let someone love you the way they deserve."

"The way _they_ deserve?" she repeated, incensed.

"Yes. It's unfair to the other person to not give yourself to them fully. It's not what they want."

"Not what _they_ want? How about what I want, huh? Huh, Keith? Ever think of that? Ever think that maybe it's just that _I_ haven't found the right person yet, that magical person who I'll be 'able' to love?" she said angrily, her voice rising. "No, you didn't. You just thought of the poor shmuck who finds me first, and who thinks he somehow is someone qualified enough to expect that I give up my whole soul to him. Well, let me tell you something, Keith, until _I_ find someone _else_ whom _I_ deem 'qualified' enough to love, you can expect the same distrustful, cynical, disparaging Susanna you've always known," she ranted, grabbing her trash angrily and storming away.

She let out her breath slowly as she walked back to the building. It had felt great to finally get all of that out; it had surely been bottled in her all day. The whole day had been one huge emotional roller coaster, and it wasn't even past midday and she was fatigued beyond belief. Her head kept reeling with thoughts: thoughts of Ryan, of herself, and of Vivian. She trudged back to her office, where she found Darcy face-down on the desk.

"Darcy? What's wrong?" Susanna asked carefully. She didn't really want to hear about Ryan right now.

"It's Ryan," Darcy moaned. Of course. "He's been calling nonstop all morning, and it's driving me crazy!" She paused. "Do you think I could work overtime tonight?"

Susanna shrugged. "I guess. If you can find something to do."

"I will, thank you Miss Bennet," Darcy said. "I just need some time away from…" she hesitated. "… New York," she finished.

Susanna nodded. "Stay as long as you like, I suppose. Oh, and book a flight to Venice for Thursday night."

"Yes," Darcy said. "Why are you going to Venice?" she said in an oddly curious voice.

"A wedding," Susanna replied with an inward groan.

"Are you going alone?"

"Yes," Susanna said. "Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"No reason, it's just… do you think… maybe… can I come with you?" Darcy finally pleaded.

Susanna thought for a moment. The little demon inside her mind wanted anything to get Darcy away from Ryan, so she said, "I guess so."

"Oh! Thank you Miss Bennet! I won't be a bother, I promise!" Darcy said. Thrilled, she wrapped Susanna into a hug.

Susanna was so surprised, she stiffened and nodded. "Sure, just calm down."

"Sorry."

Susanna nodded and went into her office. Unwilling to ponder what just happened, she fell into a chair and went back to work.

* * *

A week later, Ryan sat miserably in his penthouse, watching Darcy pack. It had been a nightmarish week: he and Darcy had barely gotten along, especially after he had been angry that she was going to Venice, and with Susanna of all people. And then there were those times when he was with Darcy and yet he thought only of Susanna; he had tried to call her but had hung up every time.

"You can still call my cell phone," Darcy was saying, in that impatient voice she had been using all week. "And it's only three days."

He shrugged and didn't stand when Darcy went for the door. She sighed and plopped her bags at the door, coming over to give him a kiss.

"See you later, Ryan," she said.

"Bye. Fly safe," he said, automatically recalling his mother.

She smiled and then left, the door closing with a slight clatter. Without thinking, he picked up the phone and called Susanna. The phone rang and rang… she might have left already. He left the couch and went out the door, feeling the burning desire to see her before she left. He walked quickly to her building, shivering in the autumn wind.

He was jogging toward an open elevator when the doors began to close.

"Hold the door!" he called, and the doors reopened. He hopped inside and caught his breath.

"Thank y-" he started to say. He had turned to his fellow rider, who was none other than Susanna's (good for nothing, sleazy, undeserving) boy toy Keith. Keith uncomfortably recognized Ryan as well.

"You're welcome," he said stiffly, holding out his hand.

Ryan shook it slowly. "I don't know if Susanna's left yet," he said.

Keith sighed. "Oh. Well, I wouldn't know."

Ryan was suspicious. "Why?"

Keith locked his jaw and cast a glance over Ryan. "We broke up."

Something celebrated inside Ryan, but he kept a cool demeanor. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"But now… it was a mistake, I know it was!" Keith suddenly burst out. "She was perfect, and I let her get away! I have to get her back, even if it means going to Venice myself!" he said resolutely.

The words clicked in Ryan's brain. "Of course!" he said. "Why can't we go to Venice? It's perfect! You can get Susanna back," (although he secretly groaned at the thought) "and I can make sure everything's okay with Darcy!"

"Yeah," Keith agreed. "Why shouldn't we?"

"Let's go!" Ryan urged him. They shook hands again, and promptly pressed the button to go back to down to the lobby. And then, they would be off to Venice.


	14. Thoughts

Before you start, I just want to say for now that I AM SO SORRY!!!!!! Now go ahead, read!

Chapter 14

From the moment Susanna touched down in Venice, time went extremely fast. She was taken to the countryside manor where the wedding was to take place, fitted for her gown, taken for a tour by a harried Vivian, and then ordered to come back to try on her dress. The moment she finally got to stand still, she slumped onto her bed.

Weddings generally made her grumpy, but two in a relatively short amount of time made her even grumpier. Vivian, although rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off, was still ecstatically happy, and Tristan, the groom-to-be, followed her around like a love-sick puppy. _They are far too happy together_, Susanna thought resentfully.

Darcy, meanwhile, had been wandering the estate with an amazed look on her face. As terrible as it was, it felt rather wonderful to be away from life, aka Ryan, for a while. Venice was beautiful, and the wedding was sure to be gorgeous. There was to be a party the next night, and Vivian, the jovial bride-to-be, had told Darcy that she needn't worry about a dress; the wedding planners would take care of it.

Her mood, however, was always slightly dampened when she saw Miss Bennet. Her boss seemed rather irascible and unhappy around all the wedding-bliss. And anytime Darcy brought up Ryan, Miss Bennet would roll her eyes and grunt.

Darcy looked across the great lawn to see Miss Bennet walking toward her. She put a smile on her face as her boss approached.

Susanna walked toward Darcy with her head to the skies; the sky was darkening with heavy, gray clouds, but apparently nothing would stop Vivian's perpetual giddiness. She had decided to hang out with Darcy for awhile, who at the moment was the only other not-ceaselessly-happy person there. Everyone else was just as happy for the almost-newlyweds as the couple themselves.

"Not even a thunderstorm is going to stop this thing," Susanna said. "I think it's a bad sign."

Darcy chuckled. "They won't even cancel the party?"

Susanna shook her head. "Nah. Vivian insists the tents will be enough."

Darcy shrugged but didn't respond.

"You want to see something cool?" Susanna asked her suddenly.

Darcy looked at her in surprise. "Sure."

Susanna jerked her head, beckoning Darcy to follow. She led her across the vast estate, which was hilly and a bit of a hike. They finally emerged atop a hill, where Susanna stopped and surveyed the landscape.

An enormous stretch of land expanded out around them, filled with orchards. A lone, narrow highway snaked through the land, where an occasional car zoomed past.

"Wow," Darcy breathed. "It's beautiful."

Susanna smiled. "This is sort of what Telera looks like," she said. "You like it?"

"I love it," Darcy gushed.

They stayed there for a few minutes, but suddenly the sky cracked and rain came pouring down. Thunder crashed as they ran back to the manor, immediately soaked to the bone. They hurried inside, where the huge empty foyer echoed with every drop that fell off them.

She was shaking herself off when Susanna got a strange feeling. Wiping the hair out of her eyes, she slowly lifted her head.

What she saw made her involuntarily hit Darcy. The girl murmured, "What?" before following Susanna's gaze. She gasped, still panting from their run.

On the steps, beaming back at them, stood none other than Ryan and Keith. It took a few moments of stunned silence before anyone said anything.

"Keith?"

"Ryan?"

"Susanna!"

"Darcy!"

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Susanna blurted out, in her usual obstreperous manner.

"We came to surprise you!" Ryan said, jogging down the steps and giving Darcy a long kiss.

Keith followed him, but stopped awkwardly in front of Susanna.

"I really need to talk to you," he said.

She looked at him in shock, not quite comprehending what had happened just yet. She looked over at Darcy, who had now been enveloped in hug; she gave Susanna a panicked look.

There were some more moments of confused silence, but Susanna soon broke it.

"We should go shower before we get a cold," she said. Darcy eagerly agreed.

The two men nodded. "We'll see you soon," Keith said.

Susanna and Darcy both gave a small smile before hurrying up the stairs.

"What are they doing here?!" Darcy shrieked.

Susanna had a hand on her head. "I don't know…"

"I mean, is he now just going to follow me around? That's why I wanted to leave!" Darcy said.

"And why does Keith want to talk?" Susanna said. "He made it very clear that it was over."

They both sighed, but parted to go to their respective rooms. Susanna closed her door with a bit of a slam, leaning her head against it. Well, this was perfect. Just peachy. Not only does she have to be at a wedding, but now she was going to have to watch Ryan be head over heels in love with Darcy.

And Keith! What was he doing? She had pretty much gotten over him the second he had dumped her, and now he wants to talk?

She took a hot shower and changed into something for dinner. She was just finishing her hair when a knock came at the door.

She sighed heavily, but dragged herself over and opened it.

"Before you say anything, just let me talk," Keith began, walking into the room. He headed for the far side of the room, and then turned around. Susanna shut the door and braced herself.

"I made a mistake. A huge mistake. I don't know what I was thinking… you're beautiful and smart and funny, and I would be the luckiest man in the world to be with you. There is nothing more that I need, nothing more that I can seek. You are all I need, I don't know what I was thinking. Please forgive me, Susanna, please."

By the time he finished, Susanna's head was in her hands. She had heard this before from other men, and by now she had figured out exactly why they always said it. And she was sick of giving the same speech, but she took a deep breath and recited it one more time.

"Keith, you _do_ need more than me. There _is_ more that you can seek. I'm not what you want, trust me. I've done this before, and I've learned something about myself. I am better in hindsight. I may be beautiful and smart and funny but you're glazing over all of the others things that I am. I'm pessimistic, distrustful, and basically not good at relationships. Please do yourself a favor, Keith, and find someone who _can_ give you what you want. You deserve it." She took a deep breath.

He sighed, his eyes sad, but she knew that he realized she was right. "You're right," he said. "But you deserve it, too, Susanna."

She laughed sarcastically. "I doubt it."

He shook his head and walked closer to her. "You do, and there's someone that'll make you want to trust. There has to be."

She smiled. "Thank you." She paused. "You can stay for the wedding, if you like."

He smiled back. "Maybe I will. Take care of yourself, Susanna."

She nodded. "You, too."

They hugged briefly, and then he left. Susanna laughed a little at herself, and then went back to getting ready.

* * *

Darcy had let Ryan come in while she got ready for dinner. He barely stopped talking, making comparisons like Susanna had of the Italian landscape to Telera. He continued to suggest that they visit Telera, and told her it would make him feel as if she was truly a part of his life. She agreed just to quiet him for a while.

She was about to put on her makeup when she noticed one of her bags was missing.

"Ryan?" she called out of the bathroom. "Be a dear and go ask Miss Bennet if she has my makeup bag?"

"Of course!" he said, jumping out of his chair and leaving the room. Once he closed the door, however, he let out a long breath. It was working; he had thought for a moment that Darcy thought he truly was just using her.

_Where did that come from?_ he thought.

This was the wrong time to be thinking those thoughts… he was about to see Susanna, and those thoughts always led to trouble when he was around her. He had done a lot of thinking before he had come to Venice, and what he had discovered, he didn't especially like. Susanna saw right through him, and he knew it. She knew why he was really here, and it scared him to death. Being with Darcy was enough to shock the Telerans, but it wasn't enough to shock Susanna. It was as if she knew him better than anyone; he could tell somehow that she knew he really was just using Darcy. That was the only place where the excitement of his rebellion fell short.

But _why_ did he have to care so much what Susanna thought? _Why_ had he hated Keith so much? Why did he wish that _he_ could be the one to make Susanna laugh? Why did he feel that he _was_ the one? Those were things he hadn't discovered answers to quite yet.

His thoughts were cut short when he reached Susanna's door. After a few moments, he lifted his hand and knocked.

"It's open!" he heard her call. He took a deep breath, and then opened the door. The room seemed to be empty, but then he saw her standing out on the balcony, looking out on the rain that was steadily coming down.

"Susanna?" he said, walking toward her.

She looked back at him, and gave a small smile.

Darcy asked me to ask you if you happened to find a bag of hers," he said, somewhat awkwardly. He leaned on the door frame, trying not to ogle her bronzed body in a simple black dress.

"Oh," she said. "Yes, I did."

She left the balcony and walked into the room. She picked up a small purple bag off one of the end tables and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said, and turned for the door. _Don't turn back_, he told himself. _You can fight it._

But his hand was hovering above the door knob when he turned back around to her. She had gone back out to the balcony.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She looked at him, but just gave a small shrug. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Nothing anyone in love would understand," she said with a smile.

There it was again. That feeling in the pit of his stomach that she knew everything without even asking. He forced a chuckle.

"Do you love her?" she asked softly.

He paused, but since she didn't say who, he answered, "Yes."

"Are you going to marry her?"

That was a question he hadn't thought of before. "I don't know," he answered, surprised.

"Would you mind if I didn't come?" she asked, fingering a curl that rested on her neck.

"Why?" he asked, somehow panicked.

She shrugged. "I guess I don't do very well with weddings."

Wedding… the word rolled around in his mind. If Susanna wasn't there, his subconscious pestered, then he could marry Darcy without any of these pesky thoughts! His mother would be horrified, the kingdom would be in an uproar… and Susanna wouldn't be near to make him doubt himself.

"I wouldn't mind at all," he said, a little too confidently.

She looked at him, an incomprehensible look on her face. He gave a nod, and then turned to leave again. This time he made it to the door, and closed it behind him. His emotions in over-drive, he returned to Darcy's room.

* * *

While Ryan was off retrieving her bag, Darcy tried to decide what to do. One part of her argued that this wasn't true love… but the other part was screaming that he was a _prince_, so why not?

She was pacing the floor nervously when the door knocked. Confused, she went to go open it. Why would Ryan knock when he knows that…

But it was not Ryan on the other side of the door. Darcy's insides suddenly twisted when she saw her stepfamily glaring back at her.

Too stunned to say anything, her stepmother began to screech.

"How DARE you leave!" she screamed, leading her two daughters into the room. "You ungrateful, insolent, impudent wretch!"

Darcy stayed in shocked silence as her stepmother raged on and on. Her two daughters nodded here and there, cracking their chewing gum. The fog around her mind was beginning to thin when she heard the door begin to open. Panicked, she fled to it, slamming it shut and locking all the locks. She heard Ryan on the other side asking what was going on, but she didn't answer. Her stepfamily looked at her more oddly than usual, but it only took a second before they were at it again.

Darcy's heart dropped lower and lower as they yelled. Yet the part of her that was saying to stay with Ryan became stronger. Even if it was just to get away from her stepfamily, she decided that staying with Ryan was looking better and better.

* * *

The day of the pre-wedding party it rained, but it did nothing to dampen Darcy's fuming anger at her stepfamily's arrival. How dare they be here! Now it was only a matter of time before they found out about Ryan. The thought both panicked and excited her. How would they look when they found out that she was going out with a _prince_!

Yet Ryan was driving her crazy. After making up an elaborate story to explain her behavior, he had stuck to her side like glue. The party began at one; the guests were led to the tents under many umbrellas. Her stepfamily had insisted on coming; they were now adamant about keeping her under their watchful eye. She did not explain Ryan, and once the party started, they got swept up by the crowd and she managed to lose them.

Susanna reluctantly went to the party. With Vivian constantly preoccupied, she knew next to no one and was rather miserable anyways. She had been thinking nonstop ever since Keith had left the room yesterday, and she had come close to admitting the truth: that she may never have to make that speech again with Ryan. When he had come into her room yesterday, how could he have so instinctively known that something was wrong? And why had she been too cowardly to say the truth?

She stood in the corner with a glass of champagne, watching the merry partygoers. A feeling in her gut told her that what she had said to Ryan had only strengthened his determination. Why had she mentioned marriage? She didn't want them to get married… far from it, actually.

Angry with herself but tired of these thoughts, she filled up her champagne glass again and tried to mingle.

The party had gone on for little more than an hour before Darcy was plotting ways to get away from Ryan. It was terrible, she knew, but she had to get away soon.

In a few minutes she saw her chance. Ryan was busy talking to a group of people, and he had let go of Darcy's hand. She slipped away quietly, and was halfway across the covered way to the next tent when she heard Ryan call after her.

"Darcy!" he said. "What's wrong?"

Thinking quickly, Darcy said, "I'll tell you what's wrong," she began. "I'm sick and tired of waiting for you to do something with all this love you keep saying you have! You never show it! You've never proven it! And until you can, I don't want to be near you!" She gave a pretended huff and continued walking. But she groaned as she made it to the other tent; that was not the greatest lie she ever told. Now he would do nothing _but_ prove his love.

She stepped under the tent, which was rather empty. Except for three people. Her stepfamily stood inside, their faces horribly cracked into smiles. Then, without warning, they burst into laughter. Terrible, vile, horrendous laughter that resounded throughout the empty tent.

"The prince!" her one stepsister got out. "And Cinder!"

"Oh yes!" the other said. "Princess Cinder! That's true love!"

Her stepfamily's laughter infuriated Darcy. They guffawed in glee, and the rain did nothing to diminish their great amusement. Darcy turned away, looking at Ryan with something that she hoped resembled encouragement. She was determined to show her stepfamily how wrong they were.

Ryan was clearly encouraged and began to run toward the tent.

"Darcy!" he said as he approached. "Darcy, what can I do to prove my love?" he asked desperately. Her stepfamily's laughter died down as they watched in anticipation.

"Oh, Ryan," Darcy began, but she didn't get to finish her thought. Ryan gasped, and a knowing look passed across his eyes. Before she knew it, he was down on one knee.

"Darcy Clevell," he said, smiling oddly, "will you marry me?"

Darcy's, and her stepfamily's, jaw dropped. Her heart began to beat faster, and her anger at her family erased any other thought from her mind. She looked over at them, and smiled at their bewildered amazement.

With a triumphant smile, Darcy clearly said, "Yes."

Ryan's eyes flashed with surprise. He stood, and said, "Truly?"

"Yes," she said, placing a kiss on his lips. They broke away, and she laughed a little. To Ryan, though, it sounded nervous.

"Mind if I go tell people?" she asked.

"Sure," he said with a shaky smile. She kissed him again and then hopped away, pausing to smile victoriously at the group of three women that stood near them. The three women had their jaws open, and their eyes bulged. They were quite a hideous sight, as their mascara began to drip in the rain's humidity.

Ryan had to take a moment to catch up with his thoughts. His whole world had just changed… he was engaged. To Darcy.

He looked up to the other tent, where Susanna stood, calmly looking back at him. His heart fell, but his eyes pleaded with her to understand. She sighed, and placing her champagne glass down, she turned and walked away.

Ryan felt a flood of panic run through him, and ran up the hill to follow her. He could barely see her at the other end of the tent, stepping out into the rain. He tried desperately to follow her, but people suddenly swarmed him, congratulating him left and right.

It took him a good hour to wrench himself away from the crowd, and he fled to the other side of the tent, pausing to wonder which way Susanna had gone. He bit his lip, but headed for the bridge that stood far away, hidden from the tent.

He ran until he could see the gray stone overpass, and through the sheet of rain he could just make out Susanna leaning over the side, drenching wet.

He walked a little more slowly to the bridge, and stopped at the edge, his heart beating fast as he looked at her.

"A marriage is forever, you know," she said, not looking at him.

He said nothing as he walked toward her. He hovered for a moment about a foot away from her, but then went to lean on the other side.

She straightened up and slowly turned to him. He lifted his eyes, and seemed to see his own feelings reflected in hers. Something between bewilderment and longing. She was soaking wet, but to him, it seemed she had never looked more beautiful.

"Forever," she repeated, and the word hung between them. "Darcy will be the last woman you can ever have," she went on, her voice raspy.

"I know," he said softly.

"The last one you can ever kiss… hell, the last one you can ever sleep with," she went on, her voice acquiring an edge. "The last one you'll wake up to see in the morning, and the last one you'll see at night. The last one you can ever touch, or… or love…"

As she spoke, Ryan's heart sank. What had he done? He didn't love Darcy… did he? Did he want all these things that Susanna was saying?

"She'll be your princess," Susanna said, her voice defeated.

He looked at her; at her dripping wet hair, her beautiful face, her quivering pink lips, her deep brown eyes.

Suddenly, overcome by her words, he straightened and took one step toward her. She looked up at him with a look of warning in her eyes, but he didn't heed it. He brought his lips down hers, wrapping his arms around her waist. She took a moment to respond, but she let him deepen the kiss, placing her hands on the back of his neck. He had never felt anything like it before; it was perfect. He felt as if this was it, this was the kiss he wanted for the rest of his life.

But it didn't last for the rest of his life. Susanna suddenly broke away, putting her fingers to his lips. He forced himself to open his eyes, not wanting to know what he would see. Her eyes were now more sorrowful than defeated.

"It's too late," she whispered. Without waiting for a response, she turned and left, disappearing in the heavy, gray rain.

_It's too late_… the words hung heavy in his mind. He buried his face in his hands; now that he knew what it was like to be with Susanna, how could he go back to Darcy? How, when that kiss had just proven all the doubts he had ever had?

But he had to go back Darcy, back to the way things had been. He knew Susanna would; something like this wouldn't get to her… would it? Had she felt what he had? Had she wanted that kiss to last forever and beyond?

But he had proposed to Darcy now, and it would more than difficult to take it back. Besides, he had gotten what he had wanted, right? He had rebelled… his mother would be furious. His brother would be appalled. The kingdom would be shocked. And Susanna… Susanna was disappointed.

Her disappointment made him disappointed in himself. He knew that for generations Teleran royalty had never married their true love, but for a fleeting moment he thought that made he could. But it was impossible. He had to marry Darcy now; the only thing to do was to forget about Susanna, and forget about that kiss.

With a heavy heart, he walked back to the party, where his bride-to-be joyfully awaited him.

* * *

_I knew something like this would happen. He's only using her…_

Susanna walked back into the abandoned manor, trying to suppress the millions of thoughts that were running through her mind. She wanted to be angry; hell, she wanted to be furious. She wanted to be enraged at Ryan for proposing to Darcy, for using her like a plaything. But she could only be angry that he didn't want to be with her.

That kiss… she had wanted to feel that way forever. Now she regretted it immensely, because now she would think of it anytime she was with another man, or anytime she was reminded of Ryan and Darcy. They had to get married now; the Telerans may not like it, but they would damn well make sure that wedding happened. It _was_ too late, and she kicked herself because of it. Through all of her cynicism and pessimism, Susanna desperately wished that they had discovered this earlier. She _wanted_ to be happy, but now she knew that she could only be happy with him.

Her wishful thinking was soon clouded over by her cynicism again, because why _hadn't_ they discovered it before? Because Ryan had been too gung-ho about rebelling against his mother that he had been too blind to see it from the start! But now _he_ was getting married, while Susanna was left holed up in her room, ready to grow old a spinster. The only thing to do was just forget about it, forget about it forever. Move on. Love wasn't worth it anyway… being happy was highly overrated. Besides, she didn't want to be a princess. Let Darcy be brainwashed into the royalty; Susanna was going to be just fine on her own, living the life she had always wanted.

Exhausted, Susanna fell asleep desperately trying to convince herself that that was true.

Author's Note: I know, I know, it's been awhile. School is out June 4… I am counting the days!!! AH! deep breath Sorry, momentary lapse of sanity. Well, ok, my whole life is a momentary lapse of sanity, but anyway. I don't know if anyone reads the little blurbs that I sometimes update on my bio page, but I've decided that once I have finished this story (tear) my next story will be based on Rumplestilskin. I hope you all will read it!

**Everyone:** I _am_ finishing this story! I just wanted to make that clear, because sometimes when I don't update in awhile, people think I've stopped writing it completely. I haven't! It's that blasted institution of "learning" that prevents me from writing.


	15. Wedding Plans

Chapter 15

_Do all fairy tales begin with once upon a time?_

_ And take place in eternal rhyme?_

_ Not so, says I._

_ Is there always a prince with effortless charm?_

_ And a princess who always comes to harm?_

_ Not so, says I._

_ Is there always a slipper – or a curse – or a witch?_

_ Or an evil little man trying to strike it rich?_

_ No, I say, a fairy tale can be anywhere – _

_ Look for it, my dear, if you dare._

Susanna laughed at her cousin's little poem. Adrienne had written it for her to try to entice her to come to Ryan and Darcy's wedding – Susanna had already said no. Adrienne, of course, didn't know what had happened in Italy, for Susanna had absolutely forbidden herself to think, or talk, about it.

She was on her way to Telera for her mother's birthday. After all the excitement, if you could call it that, in Italy, Susanna had returned to New York for a few days, before her aunt had called and said that she was holding a party for her mother's sixtieth birthday. It was a surprise, so Susanna was not to let on that she was coming, even though her mother had called her numerous times about the engagement. According to her, the whole country was in an uproar, which sounded impressive until Susanna reminded her that that was like saying everyone in her apartment building was angry – the population of Telera was not many.

Susanna had already wrestled with the thought that going to Telera most certainly meant that she would hear nothing but the engagement while she was there. But, she decided, she wasn't going to let it bother her. In fact, she hardly even cared that they were engaged anymore. She was over it, had moved on, et cetera.

Anyone who saw her or spoke with her had no clue that she had ever gotten upset over the engagement. She responded to talk of it with a cool, disinterested, but not distressed, demeanor. Details about the wedding itself began to leak; although the queen had not disowned him, it seemed she didn't want the wedding to take place at the palace. Rumors were that it was going to be in Paris, but there was no word on how big or small.

Darcy had all but quit her job, and Susanna was in the process of hiring a new secretary. She was having nightmarish flashbacks to the last time she had had to hire someone; it had taken weeks of bimbos and driven lunatics alike until she had found Darcy. She put aside the poem and went back to the piles of folders containing profiles of the dozens of hopeful candidates.

Yet her eye kept catching the poem. She picked it back up and considered it for a moment. But their wedding _was_ a fairy tale, she thought. They may as well write "happily ever after" on the wedding cake. She remembered the "glass" shoes she had given Darcy to wear once… which reminded her that Darcy had never returned them.

She clicked her tongue and put the poem away, out of her sight, and returned to the secretary-wannabes. She wanted to call her cousin, but the pilot had strictly forbidden it – something about the weather.

In a half hour, the pilot said he was about to land. Without quite realizing it, Susanna stood, stretched, and braced herself for what was to come.

* * *

"Have you finished that list yet, dear?"

Ryan sat on a stool in his mini-kitchen, staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Darcy had asked him to write down the names of those whom he definitely wanted to come to the wedding. That had been ten minutes ago, and the only name he could think of was Susanna.

But Darcy's question jerked him out of his fog, and he clicked the pen. "Almost!" he called back.

He quickly began to write down the names of family members, close friends, and some nobility who would be scandalously offended if they weren't invited. His pen hovered for a moment, trying to decide if he should write _Bennet_. He finally wrote the mother's name, and moved on.

Darcy wandered into the kitchen, in her pajamas and talking on the phone.

"No, _raspberries_, not strawberries… Well, I don't especially like strawberries… No, not vanilla! Chocolate!... Seven layers, not six…" she grabbed an apple from above Ryan's head and gave him a quick kiss. She was stressed, but he thought it to be unnecessary. Sure, they had decided to get married in only three weeks, but how hard could it be?

"No, I don't speak French!" he heard her cry from the next room. "Don't you dare put him on!"

He chuckled, and returned to the list. The list, too, he thought was pointless; most of these people were probably already planning on coming. He wondered if the people were still upset; his mother had been, of course, but her sense of propriety had quickly outweighed her anger. It may be embarrassing that he was getting married to Darcy, but it would be far more embarrassing if the wedding was called off.

"Alright, I have to go see about those flowers. Call the tuxedo place in Paris… you can speak French, right honey?" Darcy said, dressed and carrying a huge album of pictures.

He nodded, and she kissed him, letting it linger for a bit. He deepened it, unknowingly trying to find some bit of the feeling he had had with Susanna. When he didn't find it, he broke away, and tried to smile. She grinned, giving his nose a tap and then leaving the apartment.__

_ Don't think of her…_ he warned himself. But it was futile. He found himself thinking of Susanna's thick, brown hair, her bright, knowing smile, her deep brown eyes… then he thought of Darcy. Maybe he was overrating Susanna. Maybe he only thought she was so beautiful because he _wanted_ her to be beautiful. Maybe that kiss had been so amazing because he had willed it to be amazing.

Besides, what he had with Darcy was fine. Great, even. He was comfortable with her, he could talk to her… who cares if he didn't feel fireworks every time they kissed? Who cares that she didn't always understand him right away? They would be fine, he decided. He wasn't _settling_ for Darcy… it wasn't like he thought that a marriage to Susanna would be any better. It wouldn't, actually. He had seen what happened to people when they married for love; they turned into compromising, giddy fools. He didn't want that… and with that soothing thought, he called the tuxedo shop.

* * *

Susanna's Aunt Emily picked her up and took her to her own manor, a few short minutes away from the Bennet estate. The manor was in a flurry of activity; tents were being set up, tables were being set, garlands and wreaths and ribbons were being hung from the trees.

"It looks lovely!" Susanna told her aunt.

"You don't think it's a bit much?" her aunt said with a worried brow.

Susanna smiled. "It's wonderful."

They left the car and brought Susanna's things into the house. To her great surprise, Adrienne was there, who hugged Susanna and helped her with her things.

"You should become a poet," Susanna said to her as the mounted the stairs.

Adrienne laughed. "I am rather brilliant. But am I convincing?"

Susanna grinned and said, "No."

"Oh come on, Susanna. I know you don't like him, but I really want you to come."

Susanna inwardly chuckled. Well, it was better to have her think that was the reason Susanna didn't want to come than the real reason. Adrienne dropped the subject and they talked of other things.

"How did you possibly get off work?" Susanna asked.

"Oh, I didn't. I have to give a presentation to the Teleran Parliament in two days."

Susanna laughed.

"What about you? Weren't you just gone from work?" Adrienne asked.

"Yeah, but there's not much for me to do until the spring shows start."

"Spring?" Adrienne marveled. "But it's only October!"

"Well, yes, but they like to get a head start on things," Susanna said with a smile. Fashion was a mystery to those not involved.

She spent a pleasant evening with her aunt and cousin, as the party was still being set up outside. They talked a bit of the engagement, but neither Emily nor Adrienne was shocked and appalled. They passed it off as wonderful that a royal had finally fallen in love. Susanna fell asleep knowing that tomorrow, she would not hear quite the same thing.

The party began at two in the afternoon, at which time Giselle would arrive with her sister on the pretense of showing her a new garden, and everyone would come out of hiding, shout surprise, and then quickly relapse into their own conversations.

Susanna got dressed in chartreuse, flared skirt, a white top, and a wide-brimmed hat. She went to the lawn at five to two, finding nearly half of Telera chattering amongst themselves amidst the decorations. She politely said hello to everyone, waiting for her cousin's signal that meant to hide.

Adrienne soon came out of the house, gesturing everyone to hide. Susanna crouched behind a table, peering around the side to watch for her mother. She soon saw her, so engrossed in a conversation with her sister that she didn't notice the decorations. She finally rounded the corner, and everyone leapt up.

"Surprise!" they all cried. Mrs. Bennet looked like she'd had a heart attack; her one hand clutched her heart, her other clasping her hat. Susanna hurried forward, a smile on her face.

"Happy birthday, Mother!" she said. Her mother tore her eyes from her surroundings and looked at Susanna. Suddenly, her face also broke into a smile.

"Susanna, darling," she said. She hugged her daughter, who was very relieved; it was the first time Susanna was seeing her mother after her little tantrum in London. They didn't get to talk however, for Mrs. Bennet was soon swept up by the crowd. She also lost Adrienne to a heated discussion with another politician, so Susanna decided to mingle.

Sure enough, wherever she went, the engagement followed. She hopped from group to group, listening in for a few minutes, but quickly growing irritated with the conversation. She didn't want to get irritated; she wanted to remain calm, collected. She finally happened upon a group of ladies who were not so much discussing the nature of the engagement, but the wedding itself.

"Seven layer, raspberry chocolate cake is what I heard," one of the women was saying.

"I heard six layers," another protested.

Susanna rolled her eyes, but decided that an argument over cake layers was an improvement. She let her mind wander as they talked; she wondered what the dress would look like, where the reception would take place… she could imagine Paris, at night, under the stars… it was rather romantic.

"Of course, it will be rather tense, don't you think?" one was saying.

"Well, naturally. The queen is none too happy with her."

Susanna groaned and made ready to leave.

"What do you feel, Susanna?"

Surprised, she brought her attention back to the group. "What?"

"Well, she _was_ your secretary. What do you feel about it? Surely you must feel something."

Susanna graced her face with a false smile, and said cheerily, "No, see, that's where you're wrong. I have no feelings."

Chuckling, she left the astounded group and walked toward the house. She was joined by her cousin, who linked Susanna's arm into her own.

"You must come," Adrienne began. "You simply must."

Susanna sighed. She _was_ rather curious about the whole thing, and besides, she would rather like to see Ryan's face when she showed up.

"Alright, then, I'll come."

* * *

"Okay, the invitations are done. Will you come deliver some with me?" Darcy asked. Ryan was not exactly excited, but he shrugged and said yes.

They left the hotel and went by the store where they had bought the invitations. They sat in Central Park as Darcy began to sort through them.

"Here, you take these and put the ones that need to be mailed in this pile," she ordered, placing a stack of invitations in his hand. He shifted through them, placing all the Telerans in one pile, and the rest in another.

_Northam, _Telera. _Bartlett, _Telera. _Connell__, _New York. _Sivler, _Telera. _Bennet, _Telera. _Bo-_ Wait a second. He picked the Bennet invitation back up. _Susanna Bennet, __Park Avenue__, __New York__._

"Susanna?" he asked, showing the invitation to Darcy.

"Yes! Oh, darling, I have to invite her. She was so good to me, and besides, she's the reason we met, right?" Darcy said.

He nodded, and put it in the New York pile, a flood of panic flushing through him. But then he remembered what Susanna had said in Italy: _Would you mind if I didn't come?_ She wouldn't show up and ruin his plan. She wouldn't want to come… right? Unless that kiss really hadn't meant anything to her; unless she had decided to go back to hating him like she always had…

She won't come, he firmly told himself. She just won't. Confident, he went back to sorting through the invitations.

By mid-afternoon, they began to go around the city, delivering the invitations. Darcy had insisted that it would be a waste of stamps to just mail them.

"You didn't invite your family?" Ryan asked in the cab, noticing their name was not on the list.

"Um, no," Darcy said uncomfortably.

Ryan looked at her. "Darcy, we're about to get married."

"I know," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"You've never told me anything about your family," he went on.

"Haven't I?" she said nervously.

"I'd like to know," Ryan said, secretly dismayed that he was about to marry a girl who had never told him one thing about her family.

She looked at him, but sighed when she saw his imploring gaze. "Alright, I'll tell you the truth. Just don't get upset, okay?"

He nodded, somewhat anxious.

She took a breath, and then began, "My mother died when I was ten, and after that my father and I were very poor. He went from job to job, so I worked every day after school. Then, when I was… oh, sixteen, or so, he married Miss Vagarte, my stepmother."

_Vagarte…_ Ryan thought. _That name sounds familiar…_

"My father got a job on Wall Street, and I pretty much just stayed home. I… did a few chores around the house, and they needed me around, so I never went to college. When I was twenty, though, my… my father died, as well. I've lived with my stepfamily ever since… do you remember that time that you took me to that party, when I kept changing my name, and then I left early?"

Ryan nodded.

"Well… that was because my stepfamily was there, and I… I wasn't really supposed to leave the house… I mean, I had to wash the windows and do their laundry, so I didn't think I would have all that much time, so-"

"Wait a moment," Ryan interrupted. "You had to wash the windows and do their laundry?"

She nodded, nervously examining her fingernails. "Just a few chores," she repeated. "And do you remember there were three women in the tent when you proposed?"

"I knew they looked familiar!" Ryan said, remembering with a grimace the three ugly ladies.

"Anyway, it's no big deal now, because I'm with you," she said, giving him a kiss, "and I never have to worry about them again."

He sighed. "Why didn't you tell me all this before?"

She shrugged. "I didn't think I would have to. Besides, I don't want to think about the past, I want to focus on my future… with you."

She smiled and kissed him again. He sighed again and settled back into the seat, trying to comprehend what she had said. See, he had to marry her! The poor girl; she had nowhere to go but with him. She had no family but the one he could provide.

They pulled up to Susanna's building. Ryan steeled himself; he hadn't seen Susanna since Italy, and he wasn't quite sure he was ready to just yet.

Darcy took him by the hand and led him inside. They went up the elevator, but Ryan's stomach felt like it was going the other way. _Just stay cool… let Darcy do the talking._

The elevators opened on Susanna's floor, but what they found was Keith. He stood by the door, a box of things at his feet, scribbling a note.

He looked up at the sound of the elevator, and a look of surprise flashed over his face. He didn't look at Ryan, and instead focused on Darcy. Ryan looked at Darcy, who now had a bit of a smile on her face.

There was a moment of silence before Darcy said, "Well, hello."

Keith smiled. "Hello." He finally looked to Ryan. "Ryan," he said, and they shook hands. "And Darcy, I presume?"

Darcy bit her lip, and nodded, also reaching out her hand. Keith, however, did not shake it, but brought it up to his lips and gave it a light kiss. Ryan watched this exchange with a confusing mixture of alarm and curiosity.

"She's not home," Keith said, gesturing to the door.

Ryan felt an immediate sense of relief, forgetting for the moment about the weird tension in the tiny lobby.

"Well, we'll just leave it for her, then," he said, taking the invitation and sliding it under the door. Keith finished his note and stuck it to the door.

There was another odd silence, when Keith said, "So, you two are getting married."

Was that disappointment in his voice? Ryan eyed him with suspicion.

"Yes, in Paris in three weeks," Darcy replied. It was the first time she had said the news without squeaking in excitement. Ryan turned his suspicious eye to her.

"Paris!" Keith repeated. "How wonderful. Paris is practically like a second home to me."

"Really?" Darcy asked, clearly interested.

"Yes. I lived there for two years after college," Keith explained.

"Then you know all about it! Do you happen to know where the La Chapelle de Sainte Mary is?" Darcy asked, in an embarrassingly American accent.

Keith chuckled. "La Chapelle de Sainte Marie," he repeated in a perfect French accent. Ryan inconspicuously rolled his eyes.

Darcy blushed. "I am hopeless."

"No," Keith said, "with some practice, you could speak beautiful French."

Darcy smiled. "Um, Keith, I hope this isn't too forward, but may I ask you something?"

Keith nodded. "Of course."

"Well, I've been having so much trouble with planning this wedding… I've never even been to Paris, so I have no idea what I'm doing half the time… do you think you could, that is, if your not too busy, um, well, could-"

"I would be delighted to help," Keith answered before she could ask. She smiled, letting out a contented sigh.

Ryan watched as they talked on about Paris, his mind working double time. Could he marry Darcy knowing that she was in love with someone else?

_Wake up_, a voice said inside his head. _You're marrying her knowing _you're_ in love with someone else._

He grunted. As much as he hated to admit it, it was true. He was marrying Darcy knowing full well that he didn't love her. But he had already taken care of that, remember? He had been through this, with the not caring about fireworks, and giddy, love-struck fool thing. But her being in love with someone else was a completely different story. Because once she figured it out, it was up to her to decide whether or not they were getting married, not Ryan. If it had only been him who had known that he wasn't marrying someone he loved, it would have been fine, because he had already thought it through. But Darcy… something told him that once Darcy realized that she wasn't in love with the person she was marrying, she would think it through and decide to not marry him.

But he couldn't stop it now. She and Keith were already talking about Parisian bridal shops. There was no way Ryan was going to get rid of him.

He sighed and decided maybe it was all for the best. What will be will be. Right? He can't decide his own fate… that's ridiculous. A thought flickered through his mind – if Darcy fell in love with Keith, and _she_ was the one who called off the wedding, then maybe Susanna would forgive him…

Ryan smiled and wholeheartedly joined the conversation.


	16. Carry On

**Warning:** The rating has been changed to R. You'll see why.

Chapter 16

"What are these called then? The color is so lovely."

Darcy and Keith were walking through a flower market in the heart of Paris. They, plus Ryan, had flown to France the day before to prepare for the wedding, and Darcy was practically giddy at being in Paris.

However, she was even giddier when she spent time with Keith. Her gut was telling her to bring Ryan along, but she couldn't help but leave him at the hotel. She wanted to spend time with Keith, as much time as she could. Besides, Ryan had become sullen and uninterested with the wedding plans. Keith, however, was wonderful, and they were having an equally wonderful time together. He was so handsome, and funny, and intelligent… Nonetheless, the situation didn't sit well with Darcy's conscience, but she blocked it out whenever she was with him.

"_You_ look lovely," Keith said, taking her hand. She saw, and felt, what he was doing, but didn't try to stop it. The dim light of the early Parisian morning was making her head, and her heart, feel light.

"Keith," she murmured, as he took the other hand and drew her closer to him.

"I know," he whispered. A sudden spark lit up his eyes, and looked as if he was about to burst. "I know, it's wrong, but I must have you, Darcy. I can't live another day knowing you're right next to me and I cannot have you."

"You can have me," she said, surprising herself. "He'll never know."

Keith searched her eyes, looking to see if this was true. Either finding that truth or not really caring, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her passionately and intensely. She returned it, not thinking of Ryan, but only thinking of the burning desire in her heart.

_(asteriks aren't loading and it's pissing me off)_

****

Ryan sat miserably on the terrace of their hotel room. Everywhere he looked in Paris, there were couples, any kind of couple, happily walking and merrily in love. And he was the one who was supposed to be getting married… to a woman he desperately didn't love.

Time had quickly turned his resolve to marry Darcy into a resignation. Over and over again, he reminded himself that he must do it, he must marry her. He was Prince Charming, he had to marry Cinderella. Fairy tales don't end with Prince Charming leaving poor Cinderella at the altar for another woman. Especially when that woman is anything but Cinderella.

But Susanna… Susanna was coming to the wedding; she had RSVPed the day before. How could he marry Darcy with her sitting right there, watching his every move, watching him profess his love to Darcy? Would she even care? Probably not; if she was coming, it probably meant that the kiss had had no effect whatsoever on her. And he had so thought that it had…

Darcy, on the other hand, was so obviously head-over-heels about Keith it was almost funny. And she thought that she was doing such a good job of hiding it… Ryan laughed. It may be a first that a woman marrying into the royal family was having an affair, and not the other way around. Teleran male royalty was, unfortunately, rather notorious for having affairs. He knew that whenever she left for hours on end, when in reality all she was supposed to be doing was picking up table linens, that she was meeting Keith for a little rendezvous. To his surprise, though, it didn't really bother him. He had stopped trying to make Darcy fall back into love with him.

"Just stop thinking about it," he told himself sharply. "About everything." He paused, thinking for a moment. "I can't, though!" He sighed, but just then an idea struck him. Perhaps he could get some advice that would help him put the whole thing behind him and let him get married without fuss. Or at least just get him to stop thinking about Susanna for awhile.

He picked up the phone and considered it for a moment. He then dialed his brother's number.

"Hello?" came Roberto's muffled, and uncharacteristically husky, voice. Ryan, beginning to blush, heard Alberta next to him making some pleasured sounds.

"I can call back," Ryan said quickly, wanting to hang up.

"No, Ryan! My brother, don't hang up. We're not doing anything," he said, and Ryan heard the sound of him getting out of bed and putting on a robe.

"Are you sure?" Ryan said, feeling like an embarrassed little boy.

"Yes, of course. Why do you call?"

"Well, actually, I have a bit of a problem." That was an understatement.

"What, about the wedding? Don't worry, everything always falls into place. Why, at ours, the girls were so afraid the tents were too small, and then…"

"Not that kind of problem. It is about the wedding, but it's not quite that," Ryan stammered, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"Oh," Roberto said, and then paused. "Well, I'm here to listen."

That comforted Ryan a bit, and so he went on, "I made a mistake, Roberto. Everything is falling apart. Darcy is having an affair and I'm in love with… someone else."

Roberto sighed. "That is a bit of a situation, but I don't see how it interferes with your wedding."

Ryan's mouth fell open. "What are you saying, that I shouldn't care about any of this?"

"I'm not saying that, I'm just saying that you are still getting married, come hell or high water." He paused. "Listen, Ryan, we're royalty. Alright? We can't let affairs or infidelity get in the way of marrying someone we've already promised to get married to. It's not honorable."

Ryan sputtered, trying to find some words. "So committing adultery is honorable?" he spat out.

"I'm not saying that," Roberto said, as if explaining it to a child. "I'm just saying that it comes with the property, you know?"

"So I should continue agonizing over a woman I love but doesn't love me and continue letting Darcy make love to another man?" Ryan said, not quite grasping the idea.

"Yes. But you should be making love to this other woman, as well. Or to any other woman. How long has it been since you had sex?"

"Roberto…" Ryan growled, his voice threatening.

"I just want you to have a healthy, well-balanced life, brother. If your wife is getting some on the side, you should be, too."

Ryan thought of Susanna. "The other woman wouldn't be a mistress to a married man."

"Then find someone else," Roberto said. "I'm sorry you aren't as lucky as I am. Alberta will go to it any time of the day, anywhere in the palace."

"I didn't need to know that," Ryan said, disgusted.

"Haven't you thought about this other woman like that?"

"Like what?"

"Sexually. Have you had any erotic dreams about her?"

"Roberto, I didn't call to discuss this," Ryan said. But of course, now that Roberto had mentioned it, visions of Susanna were flashing through his head.

"I'm just saying, it's good to have dreams about sex once in awhile. If you're too noble to go and do the real thing then you might as well dream about it."

"Sorry, but I don't have magical control over my dreams."

"Eh, I think now that we've talked about it, you may find her in your bed pretty soon, my friend," Roberto said in a sly voice.

Ryan grunted. "Gee, I'm so glad I called you for advice."

"Your welcome," Roberto said, not picking up the sarcasm. "I'll see you at your wedding."

"Goodbye." Ryan hung up, angry. Angry that his brother gave him such despicable advice, and angry at his brother for making him think of Susanna in that way.

All day, he did whatever he could to not think of Susanna, or Darcy for that matter. He watched movies, read books, talked with people… but the time came when he had to go to bed, the one thing he had been dreading all day. He hesitated getting into bed with Darcy, who had fallen asleep the moment she had gotten home. He crossed their enormous suite to another bedroom, getting under the sheets but trying to stay awake. However, all of his worrying had tired him out, and before he could stop it, he had fallen asleep.

His dream, however, began without any sign of Susanna. He stood in the hotel suite, looking out the window. Without much ado, though, he left the window and went to the bedroom, the doors of which were closed. He lingered there for a moment, but opened the doors and walked in. He found Susanna lying on her back on the bed, fully dressed in a wedding dress, veil and all; she opened her eyes when he walked in, and a mischievous smile curled at her lips. He walked toward the bed, stopping at the foot. He looked down, and saw glass slippers on her feet. He felt himself smile, and crawled onto the bed, one leg on either side of her body. Bending down close to her, he wrapped his arms around her torso. Somewhere his conscience was urging him to stop, but Dream Ryan was so caught up in the moment that his brain didn't heed it. Susanna was smiling, yet it wasn't her usual sarcastic smile. Ryan was surprised and gazed at her face for awhile. They didn't speak, but Susanna twirled her fingers in his hair. After a few moments, some layer of his subconscious wanted to feel that kiss again and with a smile, he lowered down and kissed her. Whether it was the real Ryan or the dream Ryan that felt it, it didn't matter. She responded to their increasingly-intense kiss by unbuttoning his shirt, and then gave a little gasp as his hand traveled up her leg.

His conscience was quieted from there on.

_(asteriks again)_

****

Susanna had traveled back to New York, her mind and body tired. Life had been nonstop since she had gone to Italy, and now all she wanted to do was rest. Ryan was a thing of the past, she continued to tell herself. Now back in her apartment, she was ready to fully convince herself that that was true.

She got in around eight in the evening, and she dropped her bags in the foyer and headed upstairs, desperately wanting a bath. She ran some cool water as she peeled off her clothes; the last futile attempt of summer heat had occurred during her leave, and as a result, her apartment was humid and hot. She plunged herself into the water, and let out a long, slow breath.

Just the day before she had called and confirmed her attendance at the wedding. She may as well go, she thought. Perhaps it would finally convince her that there was no way in hell that Ryan would ever get out of his commitment. Wild fantasies had been plaguing her dreams lately; fantasies of Ryan leaving Darcy at the altar and searching Paris for Susanna instead; of that kiss in Italy; she had even once dreamed of them making love in the Eiffel Tower. She chuckled underwater. She had awoken from that dream laughing, and it was a good thing, too, because the laughter kept her from thinking any longer about it.

She had lain in the tub for a few minutes when her phone rang. She grunted, but dried her hands off on a towel above her head and reached for the phone that sat on the wall next to the bath.

"Hello?" she said.

"Susanna, good, you're back." It was Mr. Simmons.

"Yes, I just got in."

"Will you be in the office tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'm planning on it."

"Good, good. There is something I must discuss with you. It's very important," he said, sounding both serious and nervous.

Her stomach lurched a bit, but she said, "Alright. I'll be there around nine."

"Good. See you then, Susanna."

"Goodbye, Mr. Simmons," she said, and hung up. Curious and apprehensive as to what he could want to discuss, she got out of the tub, dressed her pajamas, and fell asleep worrying.

She awoke the next morning and sprang out of bed, her trepidation and curiosity in overdrive. What could he want? He wouldn't fire her, would he? That's ridiculous, of course he wouldn't. Had she done something wrong? She had kept up with every designer, every line, every department… perhaps her new secretary, a young woman named Marie, had done something wrong. _I'll wring her little neck…_

She got dressed in one of her favorite outfits; a pink boucle Chanel suit, with a lacy turtleneck underneath, complete with pink shoes and a matching bag. She left her hair down and curly, and tried to put on her makeup as best she could; her hand was shaking terribly.

"You have nothing to worry about," she said to her reflection, but it was no use. Any thoughts of Ryan or Darcy or the wedding had completely flown from her mind as she left her apartment and got in the elevator. She nervously tapped her heel on the floor, until the glare from the man next to her was so intense that she finally faltered and then stopped.

With a determined gusto, Susanna left the building and walked vigorously to the Brittania building. She got there in record time, and her heart was in her throat as she waited for the elevator.

The moment the doors opened on her floor, she heard, "Susanna, good, come into my office."

She saw Mr. Simmons for only a moment as he turned the corner to his office. She scurried after him, receiving encouraging smiles from everyone at their desks and cubicles.

"Good luck, honey," Mr. Simmons' secretary said. Susanna just nodded, and taking a deep breath, went into the office.

The door closed behind her with a reverberating bang, and she winced.

"Come, sit," Mr. Simmons said, sitting at his mammoth desk. She gave a hesitant smile and walked across the floor, the clack of her heels like thunder in her ears. She was hardly ever nervous, and the feeling disarmed her. Usually she was strong and fearless… she could be strong and fearless now, couldn't she? Mr. Simmons did not smile as she sat down. Nope, no strong and fearless today.

"Susanna," he began, but then paused. "Are you nervous, dear?"

"Hm? Oh, no! I'm not nervous, not at all, sir, I'm rarely nervous, you know, I just don't get nervous, it hardly ever happens," she babbled, but then stopped. "Yeah, I am nervous."

He finally smiled, easing her discomfort a little. "You have no need to be nervous, Susanna. If anyone is nervous, it's me."

She smiled as well, letting out a long sigh. "You have no idea how good it is to hear that."

He smiled wider, but then sobered. "But it is something serious I need to ask you."

She nodded, ready. "Alright, then."

"I… I am leaving New York. I've been offered an excellent position in London, and I've taken it. It was a heartbreaking decision, but I leave tomorrow."

"Mr. Simmons, I-" Susanna began, but he held up his hand to stop her. She closed her mouth, but her heart fell. Mr. Simmons had been her guiding light ever since she had first come to New York, and now he was leaving?

"I want to offer you the position of President of Brittania, Susanna."

Her mouth fell back open. She felt out of breath; her mind was trying to process what she had just heard. "What?" she asked stupidly.

He smiled and repeated, "I want to leave you my position." He paused, and when she again did not quite answer, or even look human, he went on. "You have all the skills, the vision, the talent… I know you are primarily fashion, but so is this store. You're an excellent businesswoman and you can still be head of fashion. Your salary will be significantly increased… you may not have as much time off as you are used to, but the rewards are much better. What do you say?" he ended hopefully.

Susanna's brain was finally beginning to function, and she thought quickly. _Pros and cons, Susanna, pros and cons…_ More money: not much of a pro or con. More power: definitely a pro. Less time:… she thought for a second, and then decided it was a pro. She needed to keep herself occupied as much as possible, that way she wouldn't think of… anything else.

She looked up at him and with a smile said, "Yes."

He grinned, clearly elated. "Excellent. I'll show you the ropes today, and you can start tomorrow. I know it's very quick, but between you being gone and my wish to cling to this as much as possible I didn't ask you sooner."

She nodded. "I understand." She then stood up, and rather deranged with happiness, she hugged him.

"I'll miss you, Mr. Simmons," she said.

"I know, I'll miss you, too. It's been my honor to watch you progress this far," he said.

They spent the day going over Susanna's new responsibilities, meeting people that she would have to deal with now as president, going through paperwork, and redecorating the office. They stayed until ten at night, at which time they bid their goodbyes and Susanna walked home.

She didn't sleep, however, and instead sat in her bed mulling over her new position. The workload, from what she saw today, was enormous. She smiled. Now she definitely would never think of Ryan ever again. In fact, she probably wouldn't have time to go to the wedding at all. Now she had a legitimate reason.

She was anxious, however, as she thought of her impending power and responsibility. Being president was not going to be easy, and although she was strong-willed and determined, she was still nervous. And it had happened so quickly that she barely had time to prepare.

"I can do this," she said out loud. "I can make decisions, I can negotiate, I can handle people." She gave a little 'hmph' as if to convince herself, but she had a desire to call someone to talk about it. Vivian was still on her honeymoon, Adrienne was never home, her mother would just be… well, motherly. _You could call Ryan…_ she bit her fingernail, pondering the idea. Were they still weird from Italy? They had been friends before… well, sort of, anyway. No, she decided, it would be too awkward. She then lied down and tried to fall asleep.

The next morning she awoke extra early. Unlike her previous position, Susanna couldn't just wander in whenever she felt like it. The president was in the office by seven thirty, every morning, and didn't leave until four. Susanna showered, ate a quick bagel, drank some coffee, and then got dressed in what she called her power suit. It was a black, smart-looking business suit, and she decided to put on a red blouse underneath, with red, pointed shoes. She put on a strand of pearls and fussed with her hair for a long time, finally deciding on letting it lie straight and long down her back.

She walked to the building with her back straight and her chin up. Her hands shook a bit as she pressed the button for the elevator. The doors opened again with a little chime, and she took a deep breath and stepped out. Most of the secretaries were already at their desks, and Susanna was about to walk to her new office when they suddenly all stood up and began to applaud.

Slightly embarrassed, Susanna smiled amidst the noise, truly happy for once. They shouted congratulations, handing her flowers for her office. Getting swept up in the commotion, she gave a little curtsy and laughed. The applause finally died down but they still looked at her in anticipation.

Realizing they were expecting a speech, she cleared her throat. Not sure what to say, she said, "Thank you so much, that means a lot to me." She paused. "I know I haven't always been the most popular person in the world, but I know how hard all of you work, and I am honored to be your boss. But I don't want it to just be me making all the decisions, like some tyrant. I want us to work together, as a team." She paused again. "Um, that's all."

They applauded again, and blushing, she went to her new office. She walked in and closed the door, leaning on it for a moment. She looked around at the massive space, now filled with hibiscus plants and her vintage fashion posters. It truly felt like her space, and walking to her desk, she finally felt like she could get used to this.

She sat down in her chair and looked at her desk. Yesterday, she and Mr. Simmons had drawn up a to-do list for her first day, and her anxiety came back as she looked at it. It took up the whole page, and part of the back. Meetings, phone calls, deliveries… all to be done in one day. About three-quarters of the way down the page, scribbled in Susanna's own handwriting, was _Call and cancel dress for wedding, and call Darcy?_ She wasn't sure who she was supposed to call, but right now that was about the last thing on her mind. She had barely put her briefcase down and turned on the computer when Tracy, Mr. Simmons' old secretary and Susanna's new one, bustled in with three men from some company. And so her day began.

The day was a wild, frenzied eight hours of nonstop work. Susanna went through it with her mind barely intact; somehow she managed to complete nearly everything on her list. Around quarter to five, Tracy announced she was going home, and that Susanna looked like hell and should go home as well. Susanna absentmindedly thanked her, but didn't move from her chair. She looked back down at the list; everything was crossed out except for _Call and cancel dress for wedding, and call Darcy?._ She sighed, but rummaged through her briefcase for her day planner. She called the store where she had ordered a dress, and they were rather irritated when she canceled her order. She then flipped a few pages and found:

_Darcy and Ryan's hotel in __Paris__ – can call room for information_

She had written it down because that had been the number on the invitation to RSVP to. Darcy had told her that she could call that same number anytime for anything. Susanna took a deep breath and dialed the number.

She told the concierge which room, and then waited to connect. The phone in their room rang and rang, and Susanna was about to hang up, figuring they had gone out. Then, however, she heard it pick up, but no voice came. Instead she heard a clatter, as if the phone had fallen.

"Hello?" she said, wondering what had happened.

She heard sounds, and thought that maybe they were trying to find the phone.

"Hello?" she said again, louder. She listened, but something wasn't quite right. She had thought she was hearing a conversation, but now it seemed she was quite wrong. Instead, she heard heavy breath on the other receiver, and then some moans. Her mouth fell open and she held her hand up to it, both amused and embarrassed. Were they doing what she thought they were doing?

She was going to hang up, but then she clearly heard Darcy's voice moan, "Oh, Keith… a little lower… Keith! Yes, Keith, YES YES…"

Then Keith: "Oh Darcy, I want to-"

Susanna shrieked and practically threw the phone down. She put a hand to her chest to calm her breathing. Her mind was spinning… Darcy and Keith? Had she heard correctly? But how could that be? Darcy was in Paris… how did Keith get there? And why were they doing… that? How did they even…

She held a hand to her head to try to stop the whirlwind of thoughts. Ryan… did Ryan know? Where was he? That had been _their_ hotel room after all… why would Darcy cheat on Ryan in their own room? Why was she cheating on him at all?

"Argh!" Susanna made a frustrated sound and sighed. "I don't have time for this," she muttered. _And not only that,_ she thought, _but I don't care, either._ She would just have to (carefully) try to call again. She blocked out anymore questions, and proceeded to stay in her office until six writing another page-and-a-half-long to-do list for tomorrow.

(asteriks _again_)

****

**Author's Notes**: Double Argh! I know it's been too long, too long. Instead of slowing down like any normal school should, my teachers have decided to pile on the homework at the end of the year and it's driving me nuts!

If you could see me (and I hope you can't) I would be blushing. That chapter was a bit, ahem, raunchy, and I decided to up the rating to R. I hope I didn't offend anyone; I'm sorry if I did. But I figured they're all in their late twenties, except for Darcy, so it's not like my characters are immoral and damned to hell. I hope.

_Please_ review. I didn't get many reviews last time, and I stayed up all night crying my eyes out. Okay, not really, but I swear a little tear rolled down my cheek. No reviews=no inspiration=no chapter. So review!!!

Love,

Emma the NazgulQueen


	17. The Resurrection

Chapter 17

"Ryan, honey, be a dear and run down to the flower shop and check the centerpieces."

Darcy asked Ryan this perfectly normal question with a perfectly practiced nonchalant voice. Keith, Ryan noticed, immediately pretended to be terribly interested in tying the bows on the wedding favors.

"How long _should_ I be gone?" Ryan asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

Darcy did not notice his implication, or his anger, and said, "It should only take you…" her eyes flickered uncontrollably to Keith, "… an hour or so."

_That fast?_ Ryan thought. "Alright, let me just get a jacket," he said as calmly as he could, and then turned on his heel and stormed to his room. That's _it_, he thought, I am getting out of here. Darcy had asked him to go to the flower shop one time too many. He knew Pierre the florist far too well, had seen the war wound on Pierre's inner thigh too many times, had been hit on by Pierre's unibrowed daughter too often. Darcy and Keith had forced him to do the last thing he had wanted to do.

He packed a small duffel bag with enough for one day and then sneaked out the door, not bothering to say goodbye. He'd only be gone a day, no one would notice. In fact, his absence would probably bring a great amount of joy.

His mother had arrived the day before; the wedding was in three days. She had brought with her the Teleran royal jet, and Ryan hailed a cab and directed it to the small airfield where the jet rested. He felt no trepidation at what he was about to do, he just knew that right now, he had to do it.

He arrived at the airfield where the shiny jet emblazoned with the Teleran flag sat as if waiting for him. He paid the cab driver and walked resolutely toward it. Flashing his identification, the guards bowed and asked him where he wished to go.

"New York City."

* * *

"Miss Bennet, sign this."

"Miss Bennet, do you approve this?"

"Miss Bennet, there a problem in the hand bag section."

"Miss Bennet?"

"Miss Bennet –"

"Miss Bennet!"

Susanna felt as if her brain had been extracted from her skull, rolled over by a zamboni, and then stuffed back in. Her work had become her life, and vice versa; she thought of nothing else. She had taken to coming into the office at eight o'clock in the morning, and not leaving until nine o'clock at night when the store closed. Her apartment was in disarray, she wore nothing but business suits, and perhaps worst of all, her hibiscus plants had died. Tracy, her secretary, brought her dinner every day because she forgot to eat. She was even sick of her own name.

She had completely forgotten about the wedding, and about the fact that she had never called back to say she wasn't coming after her embarrassing phone call. One night she had dream where she was screaming "SHE'S CHEATING ON YOU!" right into Ryan's ear, but by the time she woke up, she was back to thinking about shipments and prices and budgets. She had no personality anymore, no sarcasm, no opinions, but she _had_ perfected the ability to sign her name in under one second.

Vivian had returned from her honeymoon and had invited Susanna to dinner, but it had been the same evening that Susanna had to supervise a redesigning of the lingerie department. Then Vivian had invited her to the Hamptons to meet her new husband's parents, but Susanna had to meet with investors and talk about stock options. A few days later, Vivian had asked her to come to house-warming party where she and her husband had bought a new loft on the Upper East Side, but Susanna had to make a presentation on the about-to-be-renovated linen department. As a result, Susanna had not seen her best friend in nearly a month.

A few days before the forgotten wedding, Susanna heard a loud commotion outside her office door. She dazedly yet crossly looked up from her report on the new chinaware shipment and stared at the door with glazed eyes. She tore off her reading glasses; Tracy had dragged her to the doctor after she had found Susanna hunched over a paper, one inch away from the desk, trying to read it. They were a nuisance, but a helpful nuisance, anyway.

She stood up, irritated at the break in her concentration. She had to finish this report before the representatives from Ralph Lauren arrived to talk about their new line of bedsheets. She walked to the door and threw it open, ready to yell at anyone in her path.

"Susanna, finally! I thought I'd never see you again!" It was Vivian, and she was near to tears. Tracy shrugged apologetically as Vivian wrapped Susanna into a death-grip, or perhaps it was supposed to be a hug. Either way, Susanna felt no relief or happiness at seeing her friend.

"Vivian, I'm working, I can't talk right now," Susanna snapped.

Vivian looked confused and crestfallen. "But… I haven't seen you in so long, and I thought you might like a break," she said, her chin trembling.

"A break?" Susanna repeated. "A break! The last thing I need is a break, Vivian, what I'd like, what I _need_, is to finish my work in peace. I'll call you when I get the chance," she said coldly, then turned on her heel and returned to her office.

Ryan arrived in New York mid-morning, his fearlessness from before ebbing a bit. Susanna didn't want to see him, she had no feelings for him whatsoever; she probably thought he was the world's biggest scumbag. He, however, wanted desperately to see her once more before he put on his tux and made the worst mistake of his life.

He had his pathetic duffel bag sent to the Plaza, and then continued to the Brittania building. He hesitated outside for a moment, staring up to the very top, wondering whether he was in his right mind or not. But the knowledge that Susanna was just a few hundred feet away soon drove away any doubts.

He walked through the crowded store toward the elevators. Riding up, he wondered how Susanna would react. A million different scenarios ran through his head, each as likely as the last.

The elevator opened and Ryan stepped out, earning a few stares as he turned the corner to her office. He grumbled in his throat as he neared the desk at which Darcy had once sat, the scene of the beginning of his dreadful error. A new, red-headed girl sat at the desk, and her eyes bulged when he reached her.

"May I help you?" she asked in a coy voice.

"I need to see Susanna," he said, indicating the door.

She laughed, high and girlish.

"Miss Bennet's office is that way," she said, batting her eyelashes as she pointed to the other end of the hall.

"No it's not," he protested. "It's right here."

She laughed again. "She got promoted, silly."

"Promoted?" he repeated.

"Yes, she's in the big office now."

"Oh. Thanks," he said and began to walk away. Promoted? What did that mean?

"Anytime," she cooed after him.

Ryan walked to the other end of the hall and approached a hassled looking black woman with curly hair. On the door to the office he now faced read: _Susanna Bennet, President_. Wow, he thought. Would she ever cease to amaze him?

"Good morning," he said to the secretary with his most encouraging smile. She responded by boring her two brown eyes deep into his skull.

"Um, I need to see Susanna," he said, faltering.

"Have you called for an appointment?" she asked, her voice tired and heavy.

"Oh, um… no, I haven't," he said, taken aback.

She grunted and pulled out a large black book. Opening it, she flipped a few pages and ran her finger down the list of penciled-in names and dates.

"Alright, I can fit you in next Tuesday at 3:00," she said.

Ryan nearly choked on his own saliva.

"Tuesday? But that's six days away!" he cried, panicked.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's her first opening," she said, her voice cross.

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, which had gotten curlier as winter approached. It had always been one of his odd qualities.

"Do you know her personal schedule?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Is she going to Paris this weekend?"

She took a moment to scan her computer screen. "Yes."

He nodded, and was about to beg this woman to let him see Susanna, when a huge, noisy group of people in business attire emerged from the elevator, all carrying packages, clipboards, or mannequins. They descended upon the secretary, talking wildly. She forgot all about Ryan and attended to the boisterous group, entreating them to calm down and splitting them into groups. Checking to make sure she was still busy, he glided into the office with the first group.

The office was enormous, and Ryan retreated to a corner next to a dead hibiscus plant until the mob scene faded. He couldn't see Susanna through the crowd, but he could hear her voice trying to break through the din. It sounded… different. Not edged with sadness or cynicism like it usually was… it sounded stressed and hollow, not at all like Susanna. He pondered the change as he waited a few minutes until the crowd finally dispersed and made their exit. Ryan was at the door in a flash, and shut and locked it before anyone else could come in. Immediately, there was pounding and shouting on the other side, but Ryan turned from the door to look at Susanna.

She sat at her desk, hunched over, writing furiously, a few stray locks of hair falling out of the twist at the back of her head. She was wearing rectangular reading glasses that he had never seen before underneath her intensely furrowed brow, and paired with her severely pursed lips, she looked much different than he had ever seen her. He began to wonder if he had the wrong Susanna Bennet.

He approached her desk cautiously, not sure whether or not to speak. As soon as he reached the desk, she stuck out her right hand, her left still vehemently scribbling unintelligibly, her pen poised and ready to sign. He chuckled softly.

"It's me, Susanna," he said, hoping she would look up.

"Of course it is," she said distractedly, her hand gesturing impatiently, wanting something to sign. She didn't look up at him, or seem to recognize his voice. Was she ignoring him on purpose?

"No, Susanna, it's _me_, Ryan," he tried again.

The noise at the door grew viciously louder, and Susanna finally looked up. She did not, however, look at Ryan and instead raised an eyebrow to the door. Her eyes were glassy as she got out of her chair and walked to it.

"No, Susanna, don't-" Ryan tried to say, but she unlocked and opened the door, letting in a flood of people. Ryan sighed, but went back to the corner.

The stream eventually subsided, but people still came steadily in ones and twos, with letters, more clipboards, and full racks of clothes. Ryan finally accepted that he was never going to have Susanna alone, so he left his corner and went to stand by her desk, where she was mechanically signing her scribbled signature as people trickled in.

"Susanna, I know you're busy, but I wanted to talk to you," he attempted.

She continued to write feverishly, but said, "About the linen department? I already signed for the renovation," she said.

Ryan shook his head and knelt down next to her. "No, Susanna. About my wedding… remember me? The prince?"

"Of course," she said, absentmindedly. "Ronald, right?"

"No, actually, it's Ryan," he said, growing irritated.

"Right, of course," she said, signing a clipboard a man in a blue uniform handed to her, not even seeing Ryan.

"Well, I just wanted to, um…" he paused as another uniformed man came to the desk. "I just wanted to see," he resumed once the man left, "if we were okay, you know, after Italy."

Susanna's head popped up again, but again she did not look at Ryan. Her hand continued to write, but Ryan's heart leapt all the same.

"Italy…" she repeated in a dazed, hollow voice. "I have to call Gucci," she said, and then bent her head to the paper again.

"No, Susanna, _Italy_… we kissed remember?" he said, his voice distressed.

"Kiss? You mean the perfume? It came in yesterday," she said.

He made an angry sound in his throat. "What's happened to you?"

"I'm perfectly well, and you?" she said in an expertly polite voice.

He decided to try a test. "Susanna, do you get along with your mother?"

"Of course, Ronald," she said in an empty voice.

"And you think that me getting married to a woman I don't love is a good idea?" he pressed.

"Wonderful idea. Write it down."

"And I should be in denial about the fact that I love you and that you would love me if you just gave it a chance?" he said softly, hoping this would grab her attention.

It didn't. "That's wonderful, Ronald."

"Who are you? What has this promotion done to you? And it's _Ryan_, by the way," he said furiously. He wasn't sure whether to be mad at her or at whoever gave her this life-sucking job. She had turned into a robot.

He looked at Susanna sadly, knowing the next time he saw her, if he saw her, he would be married. And then he may never see her again.

Perhaps it was a sign. A sign that he should just forget about whatever stupid, idealistic dream he had and just be happy with what he did have. He didn't need to necessarily be in love to have a great life; he could still travel… perhaps he would do charity work. Perhaps he could to Africa or Southeast Asia or the Middle East. Perhaps he should stop complaining about such a trivial thing as marrying Darcy when people were dying and being torn away from loved ones even as he stood there, staring at the woman he loved but couldn't have. There was something bigger in life that he was missing. He was a _prince_ for crying out loud, how could he even think to complain?

"Goodbye, Susanna," he said softly, and then kissed her forehead before walking out of the room.

* * *

Susanna suddenly snapped out of whatever stupor she had been in. She raised her eyes just in time to see a man walk out of the room. Who had he been? And who had just kissed her on the forehead? She felt the spot where a pair of lips had just been.

She suddenly felt an onset of clarity, as if a fog had been lifted from around her mind. Where was she? What day was it? Why was she wearing glasses? Why was her hair so tight? And the worst of it all: why didn't her shoes match her stockings? Her breath caught her chest. She looked back down at the desk before her; two huge piles of papers sat on her desk, one with each paper donned by her (_was_ it hers?) signature, and the other seemingly waiting for it. She grabbed the name plate on the edge of her desk and looked at it: Susanna Bennet, President. President? Since when?

She took a deep, shaky breath and stretched her memory; a foggy recollection of Mr. Simmons asking her to take his place floated across her mind. Had she been in so steep a trance for that long? Was it possible? Had she even been living for the past few weeks?

She left her desk and walked listlessly toward the door. Her hand stopped above the handle as she noticed, with a great deal of sadness, that her hibiscus plants had died. How far in had she been? Was she even Susanna anymore?

She opened the door and stepped outside, looking around with the wonder of a newborn child. Tracy had stood up and taken her hand.

"It's alright, dear, back into the office we go," the secretary said, as if talking to child. Susanna looked at her in bewilderment.

"Tracy, what day is it?" she asked in voice very unlike the one she had once known.

"It's Thursday, October 23rd," Tracy replied.

"The 23rd!" Susanna exclaimed. "What madness is this? How long have I been president?"

"Two weeks, Miss Bennet," Tracy said slowly.

"I feel like I've awoken from a very long dream, Tracy," Susanna said, her eyes still glassy and wondrous. "Who was that man in my office?"

"You mean that handsome fellow with the blonde hair? I don't know, he barged into your office before I could get his name."

"Did he have eyes that were the aqua green of a Caribbean sea?" Susanna said, her voice soft and faraway, her mind picturing the green eyes of someone she couldn't place quite yet.

"As a matter of fact, he did… they were rather dreamy," Tracy said, her voice becoming as wistful as Susanna's.

They stood in silence for a moment, each sighing at the thought of the dreamy fellow with the sparkling green eyes. But then Susanna gasped, feeling like she had been slapped fiercely across the face.

"Tracy!" she cried, her true voice coming back. "It was Ryan! It's the 23rd! Oh no!"

She rushed back into her office and scrounged through her desk until she found her dusty planner. Flipping past bygone fashion shows and photo shoots, she reached October. That Sunday, the 26th, was circled several times in red ink, with the words _Ryan's wedding_ scrawled in the little box. She searched her memory, and suddenly she heard, as clear as the day:

"Oh, Keith… a little lower… Keith! Yes, Keith, YES YES…"

She uttered a cry. She had never called back to say she wasn't coming! And Ryan was marrying Darcy who was having an affair with Keith! And she still didn't know why Keith was there! And Ryan had been the one who had just kissed her on the forehead! And why was she thinking in exclamation points!

She collapsed into her chair and tried desperately to remember what Ryan had said just a few minutes ago, but found she couldn't. She was amazed at how completely lost she had been for two whole weeks. Why had he kissed her? What if he didn't want to get married? What if he had been trying to tell her something important, but she, being stuck in the twilight zone, hadn't heard it? What if her indifference, or what he probably had taken to be her indifference, convinced him that marrying Darcy was the right thing? But Darcy was cheating on him!

She picked up the phone, but then put it back down. What right did she have to tell Ryan that his fiancé was cheating on him? She had already told him it was too late to change anything, and besides, Teleran royalty rarely cared about cheating spouses.

She felt angry, something that still came naturally to her even after two shell-shocked weeks. And yet she couldn't help but feel regretful… what if he didn't know? What if he still thought Darcy was the innocent, naïve girl he had met nearly two months ago? That wasn't fair… but then again, just the idea that he was marrying Darcy wasn't fair.

_That little… user!_ Susanna thought furiously. She couldn't believe Darcy was that dishonest and deceitful. When had she become so unscrupulous?

She knew that now she _had_ to go to the wedding, her mother would just kill her if she didn't, and she and her mother had been doing so well right before Susanna had been sucked into a black hole. But she didn't even have a dress, nor did she have a way to get there, nor a hotel booked. Perhaps she could just call her mother and explain she was busy at work… but her mother wouldn't understand that. She barely knew what the word "work" meant. Perhaps she could have Tracy call and explain she was sick… but her mother would see right through that, as probably would Ryan. In a twisted way, she wanted to go, just in case something happened. But she couldn't.

"Mon petit chou!" she heard a singing voice at the door. Suddenly her door burst open and in swept her godmother, the early afternoon sunlight beaming around her so that she looked like an ethereal angel in a glittering silver outfit. Susanna was struck speechless, and took off her glasses so that she could see what her godmother had brought with her.

"I knew zat you were going to try to get out of going to ze wedding, and I knew zat you had no dress, no way to get zere, and no place to stay," her godmother said in an unearthly voice, giving Susanna the feeling that her godmother was magical. The sun still shone around her like a halo.

"But I am here to tell you zat you must go, Susanna," she continued, stepping out of the light and coming to her goddaughter, who stared at her as if she was a ghost. She helped Susanna stand and took her hand, guiding her to the middle of the room. A silver clothing rack held one hanger, on which hung something enclosed in a garment bag.

"Your flight leaves at 8:00 PM on Saturday from JFK, and you are staying at ze Hôtel de Mayfair sur le rue de Rouget de Lisle. And zis is your dress." And without much further ado, she zipped open the garment bag to reveal the most beautiful dress Susanna had ever seen, or had ever had any hopes of wearing. It was a strapless, brilliantly amethyst satin gown, which bunched together at the bosom to meet a rectangular violet gem, and then flowed in ripples down a full skirt. The back scooped down, where a single band of purple chiffon encrusted with tiny diamonds fell to the floor. Susanna stared at it with her mouth agape, nearly forgetting to breathe.

"Isn't it a bit… much?" she asked when she finally found her voice. Her godmother laughed.

"Of course not!" she said. "Ze wedding is at ze Saint Chapelle, everyone will be dressed to zeir finest."

"Oh, Godmother… I can't accept this," Susanna said, even as she longingly fingered the soft fabric. Her godmother smiled.

"Oui, you can. And I have more," she said, and Susanna finally tore her eyes away from the beautiful gown. Her godmother opened the large handbag she carried and took out two boxes, one slim and one larger. The smaller one she opened, and then unclasped the velvet pouch inside. A glittering diamond necklace and earrings sparkled at Susanna, who gasped.

"Zey are perfect, don't you think?" her godmother said happily. She then opened the other box.

"Zese are my favorite," she said, and reached into the box and emerged again with a shoe, a shimmering, clear shoe that looked as if it was made of glass. Susanna's mouth fell back open as she took the shoe from her godmother. To her great surprise, they weren't made of plastic. She tapped her fingernail on the heel; it sounded like glass.

"Zese are ze only ones of its kind," her godmother said proudly. "Zey are a supple blend of glass and crystal."

"They won't break?" Susanna said in awe.

"Not at all," her godmother replied. "Try zem on… I had zem made just for you."

Susanna carefully laid the shoes on the floor and slipped her feet into them. They were remarkably comfortable, and as she walked around the room, they didn't shatter. She was amazed.

"Godmother, I…"

"You can thank me later," her godmother said. "But you must leave the wedding by midnight."

Susanna cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because zose jewels are on lease and I need to take zem back to New York with me at 1:00 AM, and zey need to be at Tiffany's by 8:00 in ze morning," her godmother explained.

Susanna smiled. "Alright. You're a savior," she said, and then hugged her godmother tightly.

"Try to have fun. Zere's always time to have your own fairy tale."

Susanna laughed, and her godmother kissed her on the cheek and then vanished. Susanna touched the dress again, and couldn't help but think that if Ryan wouldn't leave Darcy for Susanna in this dress, then he'd never leave her for anything.

* * *

Back in Paris, Ryan met with his mother's advisors, asking them if they could arrange for him to take a goodwill tour. They were surprised when he asked them to arrange it immediately following the wedding, but they loved the idea all the same. He would have to attend a training, they said, if he wanted to help with medicines, and a basic learning session about the types of relief different areas of the world needed. He couldn't help but wonder, considering how much this would probably turn _his_ world around, if it would also help Susanna snap back into reality. He wished he could have been able to pull her back from her void, but apparently he couldn't. He wanted her to come with him, so that she, too, could truly forget about their world of crowns and balls and nobility. Just forget it all.

He no longer cared about Darcy's affair, for being married no longer mattered. Being married wouldn't keep him from traveling and hopefully making a difference. And it would give Darcy and Keith all the time they wanted, without him as a nuisance. Keith had "casually" mentioned making a visit to Telera after the wedding, just to "see what it was like." Ryan had fully supported his idea, leaving them both confused and a little suspicious. He had a feeling that Darcy knew that he was aware of their affair, but he was always disappointed that she couldn't just come out and tell the truth. His whole image of her had shattered; he had thought, back in August, that he had met a perfectly ingenuous, honest girl who would be a wonderful part of his plan to defy his mother and Telera, but now he realized that there was a different way to leave behind his superficial world. He just wished it included Susanna… but he must stop thinking that.

They had met, Darcy and his mother. The queen had actually warmed to her, but whether she was acting or being true didn't matter to Ryan. Darcy had bought into it, at least, proclaiming the queen a "wonderful woman." She didn't seem uncomfortable around the queen at all, even though she was about to lie right in front of her on Sunday when she married Ryan. She would lie in front of everyone, including Keith. But they had probably already talked about it, saying such ridiculous things like "even though I'll say I love him, I really love you," or "when I say I'll be his until death do us part, I'll be thinking of you." What romantic nonsense, he thought.

All he had to do was marry Darcy on Sunday. And then he could leave.

* * *

Dear readers _**(please read this author's note!!!),**_

What a long-suffering, time-consuming, heavy effort this chapter has been. I apologize deeply for the wait, but you had better like it, or I shall tear my hair out.

I wrote three (three!) different versions of this chapter, and even once I had decided which one I wanted, I revised it over and over and over again. I could have taken it so many different ways, and this was the one I chose, so you had better review and say you like it!

****I am very grieved to say that I have also decided that **_the next chapter will be our last_**, although I'm sure there will be demands for an epilogue. I just can't stretch it out any longer, but I promise you it will be very long and very fulfilling.

**_Also_**, I started combing through the story and refreshing/revising the earlier chapters. I already posted a rejuvenated version of chapter one, so if you ever have a hankering to re-read the story, I'll probably have all the revised chapters up by the time the last chapter is posted. The story won't change, but I was making a timeline of events (I'm a bit of a nitpicker) and I decided I need to add a few things, so if you'd like to see new stuff even once the story is over, come back and reread it in a few weeks.

**_To those who read The White Rose!!!_** I am currently perfecting The White Rose, because I was rereading it one day and decided it could be improved. The story won't change a bit, but I felt like it needed some clarifying and some additions. Check my bio page in a few weeks, because I'll tell you when it's posted.

Thanks again for being patient (or perhaps you haven't been patient, for which I apologize again). Let's beat the last chapter, which had _a **record-breaking 29 reviews**_, meaning we broke 200!!! Wow! Keep it up!

Love, love, love,

Emma


	18. You Say Goodbye, and I Say Hello

Chapter 18

You Say Goodbye, and I Say Hello

The day the preceded Ryan's wedding was an oddly blissful one. He spoke with his country's diplomats, and made arrangements to go on his very own goodwill tour, taking him to Africa and Asia. The prospect thrilled him, but by sunset, he knew the time had come to tell Darcy of his plan. He didn't know how she would react, but he knew that on some level she would be glad to hear it.

He sat in their hotel suite and waited for her to return from one last dress fitting. He knew for a fact that Keith was still at the church, so it was with a certain calm that he sat and waited, something he had not felt in some time. The minutes ticked by, and his mind inevitably wandered to Susanna. Would she come? She had told him once that she hated weddings, and besides, she hadn't even recognized him when he went to visit her. Perhaps she would simply forget to come, which would be fine by him. He still wasn't sure how he could say his vows with her watching from just a few feet away. He felt a sudden thrill at the farfetched image of her leaping from her seat to stop the wedding. He chuckled; it would not have been so farfetched two weeks ago, when she was still fiery and passionate, but now she was little more than a workaholic zombie. He sighed and looked at the clock again… where was Darcy?

Just then the door opened, and Darcy came bustling in, looking breathless yet excited. She carried a slim box which Ryan recognized on sight, but he allowed her to hop over, give him a swift kiss, and then smile happily.

"Look what your mother gave me!" she cried.

She opened the box, and flipped back the velvet cover inside to reveal a strand of small, sparkling diamonds. He forced himself to smile.

"She says it's a tradition, that if the bride sleeps with the necklace under her pillow, it's good luck!" she told him.

"Yes, I have heard the story," Ryan said shortly, but then put his hands on her elbows and guided her to a chair. He took the box from her, closed it, and set it aside.

"I must talk to you," he began.

Her eyes suddenly darkened. He knew that in the excitement of the wedding, she had completely forgotten just _who_ she was marrying. But she bit her lip and tried not to look anxious.

"About what?" she asked.

"Since I am the younger prince, I will not inherit the throne, nor will I join the army… mostly because we don't have one," he added with a chortle. Her tension seemed to ease; the conversation was going somewhere other than what she must have thought.

"But I want to do something useful," he went on. "I know it's soon, but I'm leaving in five days for a goodwill tour to Africa and Asia. It's the least I can do."

She looked thoroughly startled. "For how long?" she asked.

"Eight weeks," he answered, watching her reaction carefully.

"Eight!? But… we're getting married tomorrow," she said angrily. "Why would you do this now?"

"Don't you know?" he asked softly. His eyes gave everything away, and the second she looked at his face, she realized he knew, that he had known all along. She slumped in the chair, a tear threatening to fall. But she took a deep breath, steadied herself, and seemingly pretended she hadn't heard.

"Where shall I live, then?" she said.

"It's your choice… you can move to Telera, if you wish. Or you can return to New York… you can have any apartment you like, I'll pay for everything."

She sighed heavily. "But what will I do?"

"You can return to work, if you like. Miss Bennet is president now, you could ask her for a job. Or if you live in Telera, you could tour the country. Or you could travel, all over Europe." He watched her think about her options. The shock of his announcement seemed to be fading, replaced by the excitement of the opportunities that lay before her. She managed to smile.

"I'll have to think it over," she said, standing. She then hugged him. "You're doing a wonderful thing," she said, and then went to their bedroom.

He stood and went to the balcony. He pondered her reaction as he looked over the twinkling lights of the cool Parisian evening. He had already chosen to live with the consequences of this wedding, but he wondered if Darcy could bear to do the same.

* * *

Susanna, nervous, excited, and gloomy all at the same time, left for Paris two days before the wedding, but the jet lag wreaked havoc on her nerves, and she slept soundly in her hotel room until sunset the night before the wedding. She was abruptly awoken by a sharp knocking, and, mumbling incoherently, she staggered from the bed to the door.

"There you are, Susanna, I've been worried sick. I can't believe you didn't call on me the moment you arrived, I haven't heard from you in so long I thought perhaps you weren't coming, but that would be ludicrous, of course you had to come…"

Susanna rubbed her eyes as her mother ranted on. The duchess barged into her daughter's hotel room, followed by a hotel waiter pushing a cart full of food. This caught Susanna's attention immediately, and she wandered over to the couch and began to eat ferociously.

"Good heavens, Susanna, I didn't raise you to be an animal," her mother scolded, putting a napkin on Susanna's lap. After a few sips of strong espresso, Susanna finally woke up fully, and waited patiently for her mother's ravings to die down. They finally did, and the duchess sat on a chair across from Susanna and looked at her.

"What _are_ you wearing?" Mrs. Bennet said after a moment.

Susanna looked down. She was wearing jeans, flip-flops, and a sweatshirt. She shrugged.

"I like to be comfortable on the plane," she said.

"Susanna, you told me your flight was coming in at ten o'clock yesterday evening!" her mother trilled.

"It did," she said simply.

"You've been asleep this whole time?" her mother asked incredulously.

Susanna nodded, ripping into a loaf of bread. "I haven't gotten much sleep lately."

"And why haven't you called?" Mrs. Bennet said with steely note in her voice.

"I was promoted, and it's been the death of me," Susanna explained.

"Promoted?" Mrs. Bennet repeated.

"Mmhmm," Susanna said through her pasta, "to president."

"President?" Mrs. Bennet repeated again. "Susanna, I had no idea."

"It's not as great as it sounds… if it hadn't been for Aunt Clarisse, I never would have made it here. I was so busy I almost forgot about it."

At first her mother looked shocked at the thought of forgetting a royal wedding, but then the look on her face turned to one Susanna had never seen before: pride.

"Well, it sounds very important," she said with a smile. "I'm very proud of you."

Susanna forgot about her quiche for a moment and joined her mother's eyes. That was something she had needed to hear her whole life.

"Thank you," she said.

Her mother clicked her tongue and rose. "I promised your Aunt Emily I'd join her for dinner. Finish your food, I'll see you in the morning." With a swift kiss to the forehead, Mrs. Bennet bid her daughter good-night and left the room.

Susanna did as she was told and swept the cart clean, forcing herself to focus on the food and not to let her thoughts wander. Her stomach full, she felt completely awake. Cursing time differences, she took a quick shower and got dressed for a night in Paris: a black silk camisole, forest green velvet jacket, jeans, and, of course, her favorite black Jimmy Choo pumps. Leaving her hair wavy, she left the hotel and stood for a moment to breathe in the cool Paris air. She was a short block from the Jardins des Tuileries, which were gorgeous under the red, orange, and purple of the setting sun. She walked past them for the time being, wanting to get to the Champs-Élysées before all the stores closed. Shopping would keep her mind off the things she had so far successfully avoided thinking about.

Two hours and six shopping bags later, Susanna was walking back to the hotel, her shopping high fading as she approached the Jardins once more. With the jet lag, her mother, the food, and then shopping, she had done all she could to repress the thoughts that had been fighting to get into her head all day, but now they finally won.

The wedding was tomorrow; it was practically a done deal. She sat down on a bench and rubbed her heels for a moment as the guilt washed over her. She knew full well that Darcy was cheating, and now she was going to have to sit and watch Ryan promise to spend his life with her.

But then again, she thought, perhaps he did know. He wasn't an idiot… not a complete one, anyway. After all, when had a prince ever cared about adultery? The guilt ebbed, but only to be replaced by something she rarely felt: jealousy. She looked at the beautiful city around her and felt near to crying. Much as she loathed to admit it, she wanted to be getting married in Paris, in the beautiful Sainte-Chapelle. She wanted to know that she was going to have someone by her side for the rest of her life. The thought of the past two weeks made her realize she was very tired. Or perhaps it was the thought of the lady at Estee Lauders' comment about the wrinkles appearing in Susanna's forehead. Either way, she decided, she was tired of being alone and bitter. If she'd had someone, she never would have descended into the Hades of workaholism. The dreamy Parisian night reminded her of that night in Italy, which brought into sharp relief that she didn't just want _some_one, but that who she really wanted was Ryan. But of course, _he _was the one getting married in Paris, in the beautiful Sainte-Chapelle, and whether she wished it or not, Darcy was going to be by his side for the rest of her life. Divorce was unheard of in the stiff, traditional Teleran society.

Susanna twirled her new platinum and sapphire necklace around her finger, wondering if she could bear to watch the nuptials tomorrow. Truth be told, the thought made her nauseous, and she wondered if there was any chance to sneak away from her mother. The sun was long gone, and a full moon rose amidst a velvety black sky full of sparkling stars. Half of her longed to go inside and curse how romantic it all was, but the other half felt content to just sit still for a minute or two.

"Been shopping already? I should've known."

A voice broke through her thoughts and before she could even wrench her eyes away from the moon, Ryan had sat down next to her. She forced a smile to her face.

"I'm in Paris, how could I resist?" she replied, trying to sound lighthearted.

He chuckled, and they sat side by side in silence for a moment or two, but Susanna couldn't bear it.

"I owe you an apology," she said suddenly, feeling bold.

He looked at her in surprise. "For what?"

"For being a complete… robot," she said with small laugh. "It's just the promotion came so suddenly and I didn't realize how much work it would be so I kind of got sucked into this black hole." She paused. "My secretary and I figured out it was you after you left. It was what finally snapped me out of it, actually. I hope you didn't say anything important," she said jokingly.

He smiled a little. "No," he said after a long pause. "I was just in town to pick up some things, and I thought I'd drop by to make sure you were coming."

It sounded like a lie, but Susanna pretended to believe it. She bit her lip, trying to decide whether she still felt bold enough to tell him what she really wanted to tell him.

"What's your stand on adultery?" she finally asked in a would-be casual voice.

He frowned in puzzlement… or was it suspicion?

"Why?" he asked.

"A friend of mine found out her boyfriend cheated on her," she lied quickly. "But she forgave him. I told her that cheating is a sin and that God is very angry with her," she said, resorting to her usual humor.

Ryan laughed. "So you put the fear of God's wrath in her, did you?"

Susanna smiled. "Eh, not really. She didn't listen to me. But I still don't think she should have forgiven him… I just think cheating is completely unforgivable."

There was a long pause. "I do, too," he finally said. "But if I had to tolerate it, I would," he added carefully.

So that was that, Susanna thought. He knew. He had to. But he was still going through with it, like a true Teleran prince. She wasn't sure whether to be exceedingly angry or exceedingly sad.

"Where will you live?" she asked.

"Oh, I haven't told you," he said, his demeanor getting a great deal happier. "I'm leaving in five days to tour Africa and Asia for charity," he said with a big smile. "I told Darcy she can decide where she wants to live for the two months I'm gone."

Susanna couldn't have been more shocked. She stared at him for a moment or two, her mouth agape. On one hand, she wondered whether he was just running away from a thorny situation, but on the other she was proud of him for wanting to do something so generous. He seemed so happy about it that she thought perhaps it was the latter. She smiled.

"Wow," she breathed. "That's amazing… it's so wonderful of you," she said, and without thinking, hugged him tightly. Withdrawing, she instinctively kept her arms around his neck, still smiling.

"Are you sure it's safe?" she asked.

He nodded. "I won't be going alone. I'll be going around with a charity group."

"What sort of things will you be doing?"

"All kinds of stuff. I'll go to schools and read to children, and hospitals to visit with patients, and villages to talk to natives."

She smiled wider. "I'm so jealous, it sounds incredible."

"It will be."

She wanted to ask him more questions, but caught sight of her watch, which blinked 10:30. She suddenly felt tired again, and knew her mother would wake her very early.

"10:30!" she cried. "I should get to bed. I can just hear my mother's voice at five a.m. already," she said with a laugh.

"Then I should, too. I think I'll just walk through the gardens a bit more," he said.

She impulsively gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck tomorrow," she said, hoping he couldn't see her face, and then stood up and began to walk away.

"I'll need it," she heard him say, and it was with a rather gloomy disposition that she returned to her hotel.

* * *

Ryan watched Susanna walk away, both heartened and dispirited. She seemed herself again… but was it possible she knew about Darcy and Keith? At this point, he thought, anything was possible. But she hadn't been able to tell him straight out… or she just didn't want to. If that was so, then perhaps she wanted them to get married. This troubled him, for he had been so sure that she would be against it, especially if she knew Darcy was having an affair. He rubbed his eyes, feeling tired and confused. Because if she wanted them to get married, then why had she been so supportive of him leaving? But why would she want them to get married? She had said it herself, that she thought cheating was unforgivable. Had she been lying? Had she just been trying to get him to admit that he knew about Darcy's affair, and that he was getting married despite it? He made a frustrated noise in his throat and stood up. Why had he sat down next to her? He had seen her walk into the gardens and sit down, and he just couldn't walk away. He should've known she would only complicate things… she always did.

He began to walk toward the hotel. He suddenly hated the romantic Parisian night, with its dazzling lights, cool, fragrant air, and luminous moon. He suddenly wished that Susanna hadn't come after all, that she had stayed in her stupid zombie state. All he'd wanted was to just get through tomorrow as quickly as possible, without any doubts, but now that seemed damn near impossible. Yet he reminded himself that he had already chosen to go through with the wedding, and shook his head clear of all thoughts concerning Susanna.

He walked into his room. Darcy was asleep, judging by the silence. He walked to the bedroom and leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a moment. Her sleep seemed fitful; she kept changing positions. The sheets were tangled, and turning once more, her head left her pillow and she lay diagonally across the bed. He noticed the necklace box poking out from under her pillow. Struck by an impulse, he walked over and pulled it out. He wasn't superstitious, but a mischievous part of him did not want good luck tomorrow, and judging from her restless sleep, neither did Darcy. He set the box on the nightstand and left the room to sleep in the smaller bedroom.

Ryan slept a dreamless sleep and woke the next morning feeling rested and calm. He thought about the necklace as he stood and stretched… it was just a myth, anyway. What would happen would happen, he decided, and thought on it no more.

Dressing quickly, he called his mother's room. Not surprisingly, she was already awake and agreed to have breakfast with him.

"Just you and I," she said. "It's tradition."

Ryan rolled his eyes – he loathed the word tradition. But he hung up and took the elevator to his mother's suite, ushered in by her burly bodyguards.

"Ryan, my darling," his mother said, coming in from the balcony and giving him a kiss on both cheeks. "My son, on his wedding day." She looked him up and down. "You look… calm," she finally pronounced.

He smiled. "I am, actually."

She returned the smile and gestured him into her breakfast nook. Snapping her fingers, two waiters came in and served them a large French breakfast. Suddenly feeling very hungry, Ryan loaded his plate and began to eat. To his great surprise, however, his mother waved her hand, and her bodyguards left the room.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I didn't think you really meant it," he said.

"Meant what, dear?" his mother said in her smooth voice.

"The whole 'just you and I' thing," he explained.

She laughed. "Of course I meant it."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Ryan knew his mother was just preparing herself for a lecture. He patiently waited for it while he ate his croissant.

"Ryan, I wanted to speak with you about something," she finally began.

Here it comes, he thought. "And what is that, Mother?"

She took a deep breath, and then smiled at him. "I wanted to apologize."

Ryan choked on his bread, and had to take a long swig of orange juice.

"What?" he asked in disbelief.

She sighed as she buttered a piece of toast. "I have been very unsupportive of your entire courtship with this young woman of yours, but when you asked her to marry you… well, it is such a strong commitment that I was convinced you must truly love her. The days of traditional royalty are past, I think. We should have supported you, all of us. I am very sorry, my son."

Ryan listened with his mouth hanging open. His mother was apologizing? A strong pang of guilt seared through him… here was his mother, the queen, believing that tradition is dead because her son is in love with a poor, working girl. What would she think if she found out he truly did not love Darcy? He cursed himself for taking the necklace out from under Darcy's pillow last night.

"Thank you, Mother," he managed to say.

"And although I think you are leaving rather quickly, I also wanted to say that I'm very proud of you for going on this goodwill tour. It is very charitable of you," she continued.

The guilt gnawed at his insides. "Thank you," he repeated.

The queen smiled cheerily and continued to eat. He tried to do the same, but the wonderful food suddenly tasted like sawdust. She noticed he had stopped eating, and smiled again.

"The nerves finally acting up, are they?" she said slyly.

He tried to chuckle. "A little, yes."

"Well, go take a long, hot shower. I know the men have the luxury of being able to prepare in less than an hour, but perhaps you could go check on the church, to calm your nerves."

He nodded, and began to rise.

"Oh, but before you leave, Ryan, go see Richard and tell him how strict you want him to be about the paparazzi, alright darling?" the queen said.

This caught him by surprise. "Yes, Mother," he said, and giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek, he left the room. He had completely forgotten about paparazzi… they rarely bothered Telerans, as the country was so small it wasn't really worth it, but weddings were always big occasions for them. He told Richard to severely limit the amount of cameras outside the church, and then left his mother's suite to return to his own. Darcy was gone; a note on the coffee table explained that he wasn't to see her on their wedding day, and that she had already left for the church. A list of guests lay on the table, and Ryan flipped through it, mortified at the sheer amount of people that were attending. He began to feel rather dizzy, and sat down on the couch to steady himself. In all of his inner turmoil, he'd forgotten just how many pairs of eyes would be watching him marry Darcy. Indeed, he had forgotten how big the whole wedding was. He had been so self-absorbed that he hadn't seen the bigger picture.

He suddenly felt somewhat sick, and closed his eyes. The calm he had felt when he'd woken was utterly gone. Sitting there, he prayed that he would just make it through the day.

* * *

Susanna had gone to bed feeling glum but resigned to the fact that Ryan was marrying Darcy, even though he knew about her affair. She woke feeling pretty much the same way, but her insides twisted at the thought that the actual wedding was just a few hours away.

She'd had the good fortune to wake up before her mother came to get her, and managed to eat a rather large breakfast before Mrs. Bennet came knocking at her door.

"Come in!" Susanna called, and her mother marched in.

"Good, you've already eaten," she said briskly. "You are to be showered and ready to have your hair done in two hours."

"Alright," Susanna said, looking at her watch. It was eleven o'clock – Susanna was shocked her mother hadn't come earlier.

"When does the ceremony start?" she asked.

"Not until six this evening," her mother told her.

Susanna was surprised it was so late, but shrugged and continued eating. That gave her plenty of time to decide if she really wanted to skive off or not. She was leaning toward yes, but what if, by some extraordinary chance, something happened?

Her mother brought in her dress and hung it carefully on the closet door. Her godmother's gleaming shoes sat patiently in a box beneath the dress, as if asking her to wear them, at least for a little bit.

With another reminder to get showered, her mother bustled out of the room. Susanna sat still for another minute or two, thinking about her options. She really should just stick it out and sit through the ceremony. Her godmother had done so much to get her here, and she would feel rather awful if she ran away. Yet she still felt so guilty… but wait a minute, she had yelled at Darcy before, she could do it again, couldn't she? She didn't even have to yell at her, she could just tell her to think twice about what she was doing… the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She wasn't being meddlesome, she was being a concerned citizen. She wouldn't tell Darcy not marry Ryan, she would just advise her to stop her affair with Keith. It was just a bit of advice, right?

Glancing at her watch, she moved quickly to change into some jeans and a jacket. Hurrying to leave the hotel, she racked her brain to think of the quickest way to get to the Sainte-Chapelle. By both walking and taking the metro, she managed to reach the church in a record half hour. She showed a guard her ID and was directed to Darcy's bridal suite. Forcing herself not to stand around and goggle at the church, she hurried to Darcy's room. She found it without much trouble, and raised her hand to knock on the door.

For a brief second, she paused. She hadn't prepared what she was going to say, nor had she had thought of how Darcy would react. Susanna would, after all, have to tell her just how she had found out about the affair, something Susanna now dreaded doing. But the thought of the affair was enough to anger Susanna once more, and she rapped the door sharply.

The door opened and a head poked out, belonging to a woman of lesser stature than Susanna. She looked harried, but inclined her head to Susanna all the same.

"I need to speak with Darcy," Susanna said quickly, trying to push her way in.

"I'm sorry, Lady Bennet, but no one is allowed in," the woman said.

Susanna scowled. "This is important!" she nearly snarled.

The woman looked frightened, but shook her head. "I'm sorry, miss, strict orders."

Susanna stamped her foot and stepped away as the woman slammed the door shut. She glanced around helplessly, feeling even guiltier than before. She'd had a chance to bring the truth out, and had failed. She crossed the veranda and leaned partway out of the open-air windows, knowing she couldn't linger and yet wanting to. She decided then and there that she couldn't possibly watch this wedding. She was going to have to find a way out.

Her mind finally calmed and, taking a deep breath, she withdrew from the window. She heard footsteps to her left, and turned her head to see who was coming. As the person approached, Susanna gasped. Her chance was restored! She glanced to the ceiling and murmured a quick 'thank you' to the man upstairs, and then turned to wait for Keith to approach her.

When he saw her, he froze. Noticing her lethal look, he looked around to see if there were any witnesses. When he saw none, his shoulders slumped.

Leaning against the wall, Susanna spoke in a tone icy enough to freeze the desert.

"Since I am not allowed to speak with Darcy, I am going to speak with you," she said.

He swallowed. "About what?"

"I think you know, but in case you are thinking of denying it, I'll say it for you."

There was a tense pause. Susanna took a step forward.

"You have to stop this foolish affair. Do you have any idea what damage you could cause?" she hissed.

His eyes fell. "How do you know?" he whispered after a moment.

She grunted. "I have a knack for finding out things I have no desire of knowing," she said.

He didn't say anything, which only heightened Susanna's anger.

"Why are you here anyway?" she asked. "Did it begin in New York? Has this been going on for months?"

"No!" he finally said, upset. He sighed. "It's only been going on for a few weeks."

"It has to end today, Keith. She will be reviled in Telera if it ever gets out."

"She doesn't have to marry him."

"Yes, she does, Keith," Susanna said sadly.

"He doesn't love her! _I_ do!" he cried, startling her.

After a moment, Susanna said, "It doesn't matter. You don't understand our society, you're American."

"I don't care about your stupid society. You should at least have the human decency to let people marry someone they love!"

Susanna sighed. "Well, we don't." She suddenly realized that he may try to do something to disrupt the wedding. Even though she was probably just as against this marriage as he was, she couldn't stand to give the Teleran people a reason to hate Darcy.

"Keith, you cannot do anything to change this. You have to let her go," she said as forcefully as she could.

He stayed silent. Susanna knew she should have left ages ago… even if she left now, she only had a half hour before she was supposed to get her hair done. So, still not knowing whether she had gotten through to him or not, she turned on her heel and left the church.

On the way home, and in the shower, Susanna fretted over whether she had helped or just made things worse. If Keith thought that he could somehow stop the wedding and make everyone think that their affair was okay because he "loved" her, he was in for an awful surprise.

At precisely five to one, Susanna got out of the shower feeling clean on the inside, but not so clean on the inside. But she forced herself not to dwell on it; it would give her a headache.

She put on the fuzzy hotel bathrobe and was combing her hair when her mother strode in, followed by her hairstylist. It seemed that her mother had already decided on Susanna's hair style, and so Susanna sat in a chair without a fuss, but instead of dozing off, she intently engaged her mother in conversation. Keeping her mother off the topic of the wedding was difficult, but in trying very hard to do just that, Susanna was able to keep her mind off of Darcy, Keith, Ryan, and this whole mess she had gotten herself into.

After an hour or so, the hairstylist proclaimed he was finished, and Susanna eagerly looked in the mirror. Her hair, still slightly curly, had been pulled into a soft twist at the nape of her neck, held together by a sparkling amethyst clip. She enthusiastically thanked the hairstylist, who nodded and then looked to her mother. Her mother announced that she was now going to leave to get her own hair done, but that they were to have their nails polished together at precisely 2:30.

But after relaxing by watching television for an hour and a half, the rest of the afternoon went by in a blur. Nails, makeup, dress… before she knew it, Susanna was standing in her room, fully dressed, and ready to go. Her mother was picking up her up at quarter to five, which was now a mere ten minutes away.

Susanna argued with herself; should she stay in the church? But what if Keith did do something, and announced to everyone that Susanna had pushed him toward it? Even though she hated the ridiculous Teleran society, Susanna had just gotten on good terms with her mother after years of rift. Her cynicism softened; the last thing she wanted was for them to be fighting again. But even if she wasn't there, there was still the chance that Keith would still disrupt the wedding in some way, she just wouldn't be there to see it.

She suddenly wished she hadn't said anything. She had been telling herself all afternoon that it had been good that she had at least brought it out into the open, but now she felt that she may have just screwed things up even worse. She made a frustrated noise, and slammed a fist against the wall. This, oddly enough, cleared her mind and she suddenly made her decision: she couldn't watch this wedding. She just couldn't. Forget Darcy and Keith and their stupid affair, never mind if Keith was going rush forward and declare to all Telera that he loved Darcy… the bottom line was that she just couldn't watch Ryan get married. She just couldn't.

At 4:43, Susanna left her room and went downstairs to meet her mother at the car, plotting ways to leave the church. The slippers were enormously comfortable, and she kept lifting the hem of her skirt to look at them in the mirrored elevator doors. The doors suddenly opened, though, and she quickly dropped her skirt and tried to set her face into as normal an expression as possible. She crossed the lobby to find her mother waiting for her at the doors. A few other nobles mingled around, waiting for their cars, and Susanna nodded politely to each one. She laughed inwardly; how could she have questioned her godmother about this dress? Everyone was dressed in their absolute finest.

Her mother ushered her into the car and then got in after her. They didn't speak as the car made its way toward the Sainte-Chapelle; Susanna was too busy staring out the window, trying not to meet her mother's eye.

The line of black luxury cars stretched nearly a mile from the church, and the going was slow. At nearly twenty of six, they finally arrived, escorted out of the car by a white-gloved gentleman with a thin mustache. A few of the press were there and began to snap pictures. One actually recognized Susanna and called out her name, but she just raised her hand in acknowledgment and continued into the church.

Her mother was too busy trying to find out who they were sitting by to notice Susanna craning her neck every which way, agape, her plan forgotten for the time being. The church looked breathtakingly magnificent, with white lilies and white rose petals scattered everywhere. Susanna dumbly followed her mother, forgetting to politely smile at the other aristocracy, as Mrs. Bennet marched to their seats near the front of the church. Once she had sat down however, and her eyes fell on the altar, Susanna suddenly remembered her plan, and began to feel nervous. Her mother's hand was still clasped around her wrist, as if silently forbidding her to go anywhere. But the sight of the wedding around her made Susanna feel more anxious to leave than ever, and she nimbly pulled her hand from her mother's grasp and began to rise.

Her mother instantly ended her conversation with the Count of Palaria and turned to her daughter.

"Where are you going?" she said with dangerous smile.

Susanna bent down. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said in a childish voice.

Her mother glared at her. "I told you to go before we left," she hissed.

Susanna shrugged. "I have time," she assured her mother.

Mrs. Bennet looked lethal, but gave the slightest of nods, and Susanna bounded out of the pew and down the aisle. Bobbing her head like a toy on the dashboard, she nodded and smiled graciously to the other guests, but walked as quickly as she could out of the church. No one noticed her, not even the cameras, as she dashed away from the church. The bridge nearby was empty of cars, and instead a few people, mostly couples, strolled down the beautiful stone arch as the sun left the sky and the moon took its place.

Susanna suddenly felt silly in her lavish ball gown, but when no one looked at her oddly, she paused by a lamp and leaned over the edge of the bridge. She felt a sense of finality, but also a strong surge of beginning. When she returned to New York, she decided, she would call Mr. Simmons and ask him how he had managed to stay human and be president at the same time. She would plan ahead to call her mother at least twice a week, and perhaps even willingly go to a therapist. She felt like she needed it.

* * *

Ryan, having felt sick and dizzy, had actually fallen asleep for a good part of the afternoon. He didn't wake until quarter to four, when a harsh knocking at his door abruptly woke him up.

"Ryan! Where are you? It's almost four o'clock!" he heard his brother yell. Ryan bolted up from the couch and looked at his watch. He suddenly felt sick again.

He smoothed his hair as best he could, and then opened the door. Roberto, fully dressed in his tuxedo, was standing on the other side.

"You're not dressed!" he cried, stepping inside. "You're getting married in two hours!"

"I know," Ryan groaned quietly. "I had a headache, I must've fallen asleep," he explained.

Roberto rolled his eyes. "Only you, my brother, would sleep on his wedding day."

Ryan shrugged. He didn't particularly care about getting married anymore.

"Well, shower and get dressed. I'll lie and tell Mother you went to check on the church earlier," Roberto said, clapping his brother on the shoulder and leaving the room.

Ryan did as he was told, for once, and undressed and got in the shower. His mind was blank, for which he was very grateful, as he washed and then got dressed in his tuxedo. This time, _he_ had the diamond cufflinks, and he remembered with a smile when his cufflink had popped off at Roberto's wedding and Susanna had caught it under her shoe. He almost wished he could go back to then, when he still disliked her, and never knew a Darcy, or a Keith. But all this was, after all, his fault. He had been the one to want to come to New York, and he had been the one to want to be a so-called "rebel".

He sighed and put on his shoes. It would soon all be in the past, and he'd be miles and miles away.

By quarter after five, he and his brother had driven to the church to check everything one last time. Ryan forced himself to be perfectly civil with Keith, but it was extremely difficult. Not because of himself, but because Keith was acting very oddly. He kept making a strangled noise as if to say something, and whenever Ryan would catch his eye, Keith would savagely glare at him. Something suddenly dawned on Ryan; did Keith actually fancy himself in love with Darcy? A flood of panic ran through him… would Keith do something to upset the wedding? Keith, after all, wouldn't understand the enormous repercussions of something like that. He was used to being American… free speech, and all that. But in a Teleran wedding, a _royal_ wedding, nonetheless… He decided that even Keith wouldn't be so stupid as to try and disrupt the wedding, and went on trying to be polite with him.

By half past five, the guests were arriving, and Ryan was stowed away in a small room off to the side of the altar. But by ten to six, when he poked his head around the door, he didn't see Susanna. Her mother was there, who kept glancing around nervously, presumably for her daughter, but Susanna wasn't anywhere to be seen. This both calmed and unnerved him, but he had no time to dwell on it, because before he knew it, he was being told to go and stand on the altar.

He took his time to do this simple act. First he had to persuade himself to actually open the door and leave the safety of the tiny room. Then he had to remind himself how to walk; right, left, right, left. Then came the task of stepping up onto the altar in front of all these people… this took some time, but he managed to place his right foot on the raised floor, and push himself up. He took a deep breath, clasped his hands together in front of him, and then turned and waited for his bride.

There was a minute or so pause before anything happened. Ryan kept glancing back and forth between the empty seat where Susanna should have been, and the place in the corner where Keith stood, his eyes fiercely glowering at the whole scene. But then the organ began to play; first, his mother walked down the aisle. Everyone sprung from their seats and bowed as she gracefully made her way to her seat in the front pew. Then came the bridesmaids and groomsmen, a carefully selected group of aristocratic young men and women. Then the organ struck up the wedding tune, and everyone stood. Darcy appeared alone in the doorway, dressed in long, billowy white dress, which sparkled and twinkled in the luminous light of the church. He couldn't tell from behind her veil, but Ryan had a feeling she looked both petrified and exhilarated.

She made her way down the aisle at a steady pace, and as she got closer, Ryan noticed that her dress sparkled because of the tiny diamonds that were encrusted in the bodice of her gown. She finally stepped up onto the altar as the organ died down, and Ryan gave her a faint smile as they turned to face the priest.

Yet as the priest began to speak, Ryan found he couldn't daze off like he had expected to. Instead, he found himself hanging on to every word the priest said about marriage, love, and the bond he was making with Darcy. Of course he had agonized over this decision for weeks, but somehow actually hearing the words made him truly terrified for the first time of the choice he had made. Each word lolled around in his mind, taunting him and forcing him to rethink his entire life. Then he heard the words he had been both anticipating and dreading –

"If any of you object or can show just cause why these two may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace."

There was a long, dreadful pause. The time had come for Ryan to make his final decision, and without allowing himself time for second doubts, he made it. Then –

"I object."

Ryan looked around to see who else had spoken, for he was quite sure he hadn't been the only one. The church immediately broke out into bedlam, as people tried to see who had spoken and to make sure they had heard correctly. Ryan, however, was looking at Darcy, who had lifted her veil. She was crying.

"I'm sorry, Ryan, I just couldn't…"

"Darcy!" Ryan looked to see Keith bounding down the aisle. He knew now that three people had spoken… Darcy, Keith, and himself. In the complete chaos of the church, no one really seemed to actually notice what was happening on the altar. Keith jumped up and joined them.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't just stand there and let you marry someone else!" Keith said; he, too, was crying. He turned to Ryan. "I apologize, but I love her. You don't."

Ryan nodded, feeling anxious to leave but wanting them to understand. "I know."

"You knew?" Darcy said, looking torn between despair and happiness.

"All along," Ryan said. Darcy looked heartbroken, but then Keith took her hands.

"But we can be together now," he said.

Ryan couldn't stand watching their romantic reunion any longer; his eyes caught once more the empty seat where Susanna should have been. Panicked that she may have returned to New York, and perhaps to her soulless state, he began to leave. But he caught his mother's eyes for just a moment; he shrugged slightly, apologizing, but to his great surprise, she nodded. He smiled and rushed out of the church. On the front steps sat an elder man feeding the birds. Ryan desperately approached him.

"Pardon, monsieur, mais avez-vous vu une femme partir de l'église?" he asked quickly. (Pardon, sir, have you seen a woman leave the church?)

"Ah, oui, monsieur," the man said in a husky voice. "Dans une robe violet?" (In a purple dress?)

Although Ryan had no idea what color dress Susanna had on, he nodded.

"Mais oui, monsieur. Elle a marché au pont," he said, pointing to the bridge. (She walked to the bridge)

"Merci," Ryan said promptly, and then hurried to the bridge. The priest's speech about marriage and love had convinced him that even if he did charity for the rest of his life, nothing would be able to replace having his true love by his side. He had never loved Darcy; he did, however, love Susanna, and if there was anyone that he could ever even think about spending forever with, it had to be her.

He hurtled across the bridge, earning him a few amused stares from the couples strolling by. He came to a halt, however, at the very end of the bridge. Along the banks of the river was a dock, and at the end of the dock, set up on the dewy grass, was a tent, alit with sparkling lights. People were laughing and dancing to an accordion and violin, but this wasn't what caught Ryan's eye. What did was just one of those people dancing, but she alone wasn't laughing.

Ryan left the bridge and walked through the grass towards the tent. A group along the edges saw him and, laughing and clapping, allowed him to join them in the tent. He managed to smile, but worked his way through the crowd until he was right behind Susanna, who was dancing with a distinguished elder man. He mouthed to the man asking if he could cut in. The man smiled and obliged, turning Susanna around so that she faced Ryan instead.

Her mouth immediately fell open into a very inelegant O, but he took her arms and began to waltz. She couldn't seem to find her voice, but continued to stare at him as if she had never seen anything quite like him. The dance, however, forced them to switch partners, and after he had twirled around with his new partner for awhile, he turned to find that she was gone.

He stood on his tiptoes and saw her striding away along the grass, barefoot, one hand on her head. He hurried to the edge of the tent, where a gleaming set of shoes had caught his eye. Picking one up, he knew they had to be hers, and he slipped the shoe into the inner pocket of his jacket. He then jogged to catch up with her.

She still had her back to him as if she hadn't heard him come. He reached out to touch her arm, but she suddenly turned, looking very distressed.

"It was Keith, wasn't it? I should have known he would do something stupid like this. This is all my fault! My mother will kill me when she finds out… I'll be exiled… you must have come here to yell at me… I _knew_ I shouldn't have butted in, why couldn't I have just kept quiet?" she ranted, pacing back and forth.

Half afraid she had lost her mind, and half curious as to what she was talking about, Ryan said, very carefully, "What are talking about?"

She finally stayed still and looked at him. It suddenly occurred to him how sad she looked, and it broke his heart.

"I… I found out about Darcy and Keith. Weeks ago, mind you, but then my job… well, you saw how it was like. I didn't know whether to tell you or not, but then last night… I knew you had to have known. But I couldn't stand knowing about it and knowing that they would probably just continue when you left so I… I went to tell Keith to end it… well, actually I went to tell Darcy, but I couldn't get to her so…" she paused. "But now they've gone and turned this wedding into a disaster and everyone will blame you for it when it's really all my fault!" she ended, her voice somewhere between sadness and anger.

But Ryan no longer cared about Darcy and Keith; now all he wanted to do was tell Susanna what he should have told her long ago.

"It's _not_ your fault," he insisted, filling the space between them and putting his hands on her upper arms and his forehead on the crown of her head. "_I_ called the wedding off, too."

Susanna's brow furrowed in puzzlement and she looked up at him. "You did? Why?" she asked, but not any breathy, romantic tone; she looked like she really wanted to know.

He smiled, but instead of answering the question, he asked her one. "Why didn't you come?"

Her eyes clouded over and she looked to the ground. "I… I just couldn't… watch you… and Darcy… because then I remembered…"

"Remembered what?"

She looked up at him, and the words finally came. "Italy." She paused, and then shrugged. "I just couldn't watch you marry her, Ryan. Not if I still thought I was in love with you."

His heart gave a silly little leap. He grinned. "Well, I couldn't marry Darcy because I couldn't marry someone I didn't love, even if I did agree to it. Nothing would be able to replace an empty marriage, not even charity." He paused. "I've been foolish, this whole time. I shouldn't have tried to rebel against anyone… if I had just opened my eyes, I would have seen that the person I loved was right where she should have been, all along."

Susanna then smiled, too, a sight that made him very happy.

"So… no Cinderella for you, Prince Charming?" she asked mischievously, fiddling with his lapel.

He chuckled. "Nah… she's a bit cliché, don't you think?"

She laughed. "But then you'll have to settle for one of the nobles," she said mock-seriously.

He shrugged playfully. "That's alright. I've already got my eye on a pretty good one."

"Oh really? Who is it?"

He smiled, but didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out the glass slipper.

"Whosever's foot fits this shoe," he said with a grin, "shall be my princess."

Susanna rolled her eyes, but she laughed as he lowered himself to one knee. She raised the hem of her skirt and lifted one foot. The shoe glided right on.

"Well, what do you know," Susanna said with pseudo surprise. "Looks like you're stuck with me, pal."

Ryan laughed and stood back up, putting his arms around her waist. "I think I can deal with that." He paused and smiled at her. "Susanna, I love you."

She smiled, and for the first time, it was wholly devoid of any mark of unhappiness.

"I love you, too," she replied, and then put her hands around his neck and drew him in for a kiss, proving that although you may not have lived the fairy tale you thought you would, you can still live your own and have a very happy ending.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Dear readers,

Nay, 'tis not the end! I'm planning on putting an epilogue, if the masses demand it, which I suspect they will.

Sorry this took so very long. The delay was partially my stubbornness to let this story go, and partially my own perfectionism (is that a word? Oh well, it is now). I apologize deeply, but you have to admit, it is rather long and hopefully satisfying! It was fifteen pages on Word, which may be a record for me.

So review review review!!!!!!!! If you've never reviewed before, please do so now!!!

**How to keep reading NazgulQueen:**

1. Read my stories in other genres. I have Ella Enchanted, LOTR, and POTC.

2. Watch for new stories. I have two planned; one fairy tale and one Harry Potter.

**COMING ATTRACTIONS! **Here is the summary for my new fairy tale! Tell me what you think!

The king wants Ginger under the false notion that she can spin straw into gold, but with some help from a mysterious little man, she manages to do it and keep herself alive. But the king isn't the only one who wants her and her gold, and Ginger soon finds herself caught in the middle of a battle of wits, power, and idiotic rulers.

In case you couldn't tell, it's a Rumpelstilskin story. Watch for it to be posted (hopefully) by September.

3. Watch for revisions! I'm still perfecting The White Rose, which (again, hopefully) will be revised and updated by the time I get the epilogue up. I'm also doing a few revisions on this story, as well, which should be up sometime soon.

So thank you all again VERY VERY MUCH!!!!!!!!!! This has been, by far, my most successful story EVER and it has been wonderful to share it with you. So keep reading NazgulQueen and remember, review! (I am shameless, aren't I?)

Obediently yours, your humble servant, etc.,

Emma the NazgulQueen

P.S. Although I take French in school, it's still rather awful, so my humblest apologies if it's wrong.


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue

Susanna and Ryan stayed on the river banks, dancing well into the night, and avoiding the confused Telerans leaving the church. After grilling him to relate what had happened, telling him she knew all along that he'd come back to her, and then having a hearty laugh about Darcy wanting Keith over him, Susanna had finally fallen silent. Ryan, however, took his turn to laugh.

"Now I now why I disliked you all those years," he said. "You talk too much."

Susanna gave a fake gasp. "Well, I disliked _you_ because you could never take a joke."

He grunted. "How could I, when you made a joke about _everything_?"

"Well, if you hadn't been so high and mighty, I wouldn't have made fun of you."

They paused for a moment, looking at each other. Then Susanna burst out into laughter.

"What is it now?" Ryan asked.

"Tell me why we like each other, again?" she said.

He smiled. "If I could put it into words, I would, but I'm not going to try."

She smiled as well, and they began to dance again. But Susanna suddenly looked troubled.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Are you still going to Africa?" she inquired.

He thought for a moment. He had completely forgotten about his charity tour. _Was_ he still going? He looked down at her… now that he had her, he wanted to spend all his time with her; he didn't want to leave her for two months now. But the prince inside him nagged, _a promise is a promise_. So perhaps…

"Come with me," he said.

Her face broke into a laugh again. "Come with you?" she repeated. "How am I supposed to do that? I have a _job_, you know."

His face fell. He knew it had been a long shot, but it had been worth a try.

"Unless…" she began.

"Unless what?" he asked quickly.

"Well, what if I propose an outreach program, you know, for the store. Like we donate some money to the charity, and then I go as a publicity shtick."

"Would that work?" he asked hopefully.

"I think so… I don't know about two months, and you'd have to postpone it for a bit, but still…"

He grinned. "That's an excellent idea."

She grinned as well, and they continued dancing, happy to have the problem solved. Susanna chattered on about African animals, and what she should wear, and how she'd probably complain about the heat, et cetera, but Ryan listened to her ramble on, content to listen to her voice. But suddenly she broke off, and stepped away from him, looking at her watch with a panicked look on her face.

"No! It's 11:40… almost midnight! I have to go!" she cried.

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Susanna, be serious."

"I am! The necklace… I have to get it back to my godmother! Come on!" she said, grabbing his wrist and beginning to run through the tent. She tore across the bridge, and he ran after her, bewildered but amused. Upon reaching the other side, she got a taxi by running in front of it, nearly getting herself killed. Yelling at Ryan to get in, she bellowed at the driver to hurry to the hotel. He obliged, and Ryan rushed to put on his seatbelt as the driver raced through the streets. The taxi came to a screeching halt outside the hotel, and Susanna scrambled inside, where her godmother Clarisse stood waiting. Ryan hastened in after her, but suddenly felt embarrassed as Clarisse looked with amusement at them.

"Susanna, thank you for remembering," she said, taking the necklace off her goddaughter's neck and placing it in a box. Susanna flushed, trying to catch her breath.

"I guess you heard," she said quietly.

Clarisse smiled. "Yes. I regret not being at such a memorable event," she said with a chuckle. Ryan nervously looked around the lobby of the hotel, relieved to find it empty. Clarisse gave Susanna a kiss on the cheek.

"I told you you were in love," she said softly with a wink.

Susanna laughed and hugged her godmother. "Thanks," she said.

Clarisse then walked over to Ryan, who felt awkward, but was reassured to see Clarisse smiling.

"Do not worry, young man," she said. "You did the right thing."

He smiled, and bowed his head. "Thank you."

"Take care of her," she continued. "She needs it."

Ryan chuckled. "I know, and I will."

Clarisse then nodded to both of them and left the hotel. Ryan and Susanna stood for a moment.

"So, what should we do?" Susanna finally asked.

"Well, we shouldn't stand here. Someone will find us," he said.

"We'll have to face it sooner or later," she mused.

He shrugged. "I'll explain. They'll have to understand."

"Will they understand that Darcy was having an affair but we weren't?" she suddenly said, panicked.

He walked to her and took her hand. "Yes. I'll make sure of it. Let's take a walk."

She nodded and they went outside, strolling towards the Jardins.

"Thanks, by the way," Susanna said, out of the blue.

"Why?" he asked.

"Can you imagine what I would have been like if you hadn't come to see me? Can you even imagine what I'd be like if you hadn't come to New York at all?"

He smiled. "Well, I'm glad I did. But who cares about the past? Let's just start over."

She smiled as well and gave him a kiss. "I can do that."

And so Ryan and Susanna began their life together. Susanna did call Mr. Simmons for advice, and asked him what he thought of her outreach idea. He called it a stroke of brilliance, as did everyone else. She became the business world's new celebrity, and she appointed Ryan coordinator, a job he absolutely loved. The Telerans, to their surprise, understood what had happened at the wedding, and were thrilled that the prince had chosen Susanna over Darcy. In March of the next year, they left for a one-month charity tour, which was documented for a television special, causing their celebrity to grow. When they returned, they spent a blissful amount of time together, working and living, until December, when Susanna found a rather shiny present under the Christmas tree.

They were married on a beautiful sunny day in May, and, (you know I have to say it), lived happily ever after.

The End

* * *

A/N: Done! Nearly a year after I began, it's finally finished.

But never fear! I'm planning, right this very moment, to have my new story up by Wednesday. So PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE check it out! And review! Else I shall be very disheartened.

So again, thank you for a wonderful year of this story, and all your fantastic reviews. It's been a blast!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma


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